GOLD-FOIL, 


HAMMERED  FROM  POPULAR  PROVERBS. 


BY 


TIMOTHY  TITCOMB, 


AUTHOR   o*    "LETTERS    TO   THE   YOUNG.' 


"  Proverbs  are  the  daughters  of  daily  experience." 

Dutch  Proverb. 


ELEVENTH    EDITION. 


NEW    YORK: 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER,    124   GRAND    STREET. 
1860 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1859,  by 
CHAKLES   SCRIBNEK, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  South- 
ern District  of  New  York. 


loan  f.  T«ow, 
Printer,  Stereolyper,  and  EI«trotyper, 

4t,  43  A  &0  Green*  Street, 
Between  Grand  &  Broome,  New  York. 


PKEFACE. 


f  I  ^HE  grass  that  grows  upon  the  lawn  elects  and 
-*-  drinks  from  the  juices  of  the  earth  the  ele* 
ments  that  compose  its  structure  ;  but  if  the  lawn 
be  cropped  year  after  year,  and  have  no  return  of 
the  materials  removed,  it  will  cease  to  thrive.  A 
wise  husbandry  will  spread  upon  its  surface  the  re- 
sults of  the  life  that  has  been  taken  away,  and  these 
will  furnish  its  most  healthful  nourishment.  So  the 
vital  truths,  relating  to  the  common  life  of  man,  are 
elected  and  drawn  from  soils  containing  innumera- 
ble ingredients  that  may  not  be  assimilated.  Many 
of  these  ingredients,  good  and  bad,  are  furnished  by 


4  Preface. 

the  schools  and  by  the  professional  mind,  and  it 
may  legitimately  be  the  work  of  a  layman  to  take 
the  results  of  the  life  that  has  been  lived — the 
truths  that  have  been  verified  and  vitalized  by  hu- 
man experience — and  give  them  again  to  the  soil 
that  has  produced  them.  With  the  records  of  pop- 
ular experience  in  my  hand,  as  they  are  embodied 
in  popular  proverbs,  I  aim  to  do  this  work  in  this 
book. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.,  1859. 


Ax  EXORDIAL  ESSAY 9 


n. 


THE  INFALLIBLE  BOOK. 


m. 


PATIENCE 

PERFECT  LIBERTY. 


IV. 


V. 
TRUST   AND  "WHAT  COMES  or  IT 

VI. 


THE  IDEAL  CHRIST. 


19 


31 


43 


65 


67 


vn. 


PROVIDENCE 79 

vin. 
DOES  SENSUALITY  PAY? 91 

IX. 


THE  WAY  TO  GBOW  OLD. 


102 


Contents. 


ALMSGIVING 113 

XI. 

THE  LOVE  OF  WHAT  is  Ocas 124 

xn. 
THE  POWER  or  CIRCUMSTANCES 136 

xm. 
ANVILS  AND  HAMMERS 148 

XTV. 
EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PLACE 160 

XT. 

INDOLENCE  AND  INDUSTRY 171 

XVI. 

THE  SINS  OF  OUR  NEIGHBORS 183 

XVII. 
THE  CANONIZATION  OF  THE  Vicious 194 

xvm. 
SOCIAL  CLASSIFICATION 205 

XIX. 
THE  PRESERVATION  OF  CHARACTER 215 

xx. 
VICES  OF  IMAGINATION 226 

XXI. 

QUESTIONS  ABOVE  REASON 237 


Contents. 


XXII. 

P4.OZ 
PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  Lira 249 

\  xnr. 
HOME 260 

XXIV. 
LEARNING  AND  WISDOM 272 

xxv. 
RECEIVING  AND  DOING 284 

XXVI. 
THE  SECRET  OF  POPULARITY. 29t 

xxvn. 
THE  LORD'S  BUSINESS 809 

xxv  m. 
THE  GREAT  MTSTERT 947 


GOLD-FOIL. 


AN  EXORDIAL  ESSAY. 

14  Cold  broth  hot  again,  that  loved  I  never ; 
Old  love  renewed  again,  that  loved  I  ever." 

"Get  thy  spindle  and  thy  distaff  ready,  and  God  will  send  thee  flax." 

FOR  the  general  public,  I  have  written  a  preface, 
that  the  aims  and  character  of  my  book  may  be 
comprehended  at  a  glance,  as  it  is  lifted  from  the  shelf 
of  the  bookseller ;  but  to  those  who  read  the  book,  I 
have  something  more  that  I  wish  to  say  by  way  of 
introduction. 

It  is  not  for  the  brilliant  brace  of  initial  sermons 
that  we  still  admire  the  man  whom  we  love  to  call 
"  our  minister."  The  old  love  must  be  renewed  again, 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  from  month  to  month,  and 
from  year  to  year,  by  new  exhibitions  of  his  power, 
and  new  demonstrations  of  his  faculty  to  feed  the  mo- 
1* 


10  Gold-Foil. 

tives  of  a  large  and  luxuriant  life  within  our  souls.  If 
he  fail  in  this — if  his  power  flinch  through  laziness,  or 
flag  through  languor — and  he  resort  to  the  too  common 
process  of  heating  again  the  old  broth,  his  productions 
will  grow  insipid,  and  our  hungering  natures  will  turn 
uneasily  to  other  sources  for  refreshment.  It  is  not  for 
the  fresh  cheek,  the  full  lip,  the  fair  forehead,  the 
parted  sweeps  of  sunny  hair,  and  the  girlish  charm  of 
form  and  features,  that  we  love  the  wives  who  have 
walked  hand  in  hand  with  us  for  years,  but  for  new 
graces,  opening  each  morning  like  flowers  in  the  par- 
terre, their  predecessors  having  accomplished  their 
beautiful  mission  and  gone  to  seed.  Old  love  renewed 
again,  through  new  motives  to  love,  is  certainly  a  thing 
lovely  in  itself,  and  desirable  by  all  whose  ambition  and 
happiness  it  is  to  sit  supreme  in  a  single  heart,  or  to 
hold  an  honorable  place  in  the  affections  of  the 
people. 

A  few  months  ago,  the  pen  that  traces  these  lines 
commenced  a  series  of  letters  to  the  young.  The  let- 
ters accumulated,  and  grew  into  a  book;  and  this 
book,  with  honest  aims  and  modest  pretensions,  has  a 
place  to-day  in  many  thousand  homes,  while  it  has  been 
read  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  and  women  in 
every  part  of  the  country.  More  and  better  than  this, 
it  has  become  an  inspiring,  moving  and  directing  power 
in  a  great  aggregate  of  young  life.  I  say  this  with 


An  Exordial  Eflay.  11 

that  kind  of  gladness  and  gratitude  which  admits  of 
little  pride.  I  say  it  because  it  has  been  said  to  me — 
revealed  to  me  in  letters  brimming  with  thankfulness 
and  overflowing  with  friendliness ;  expressed  to  me  in 
silent  pressures  of  the  hand — pressures  so  full  of  mean- 
ing that  I  involuntarily  looked  at  my  palm  to  see  if  a 
jewel  had  not  been  left  in  it ;  uttered  to  me  by  eyes 
full  of  interest  and  pleasure ;  told  to  me  in  plain  and 
homely  words  in  the  presence  of  tears  that  came  un- 
bidden, like  so  many  angels  sliding  silently  out  of 
heaven,  to  vouch  for  their  honesty.  To  say  that  all 
this  makes  me  happy,  would  not  be  to  say  all  that  I 
feel.  I  account  the  honor  of  occupying  a  pure  place 
in  the  popular  heart — of  being  welcomed  in  God's  name 
into  the  affectionate  confidence  of  those  for  whom  life 
has  high  meanings  and  high  issues — of  being  recognized 
as  among  the  beneficent  forces  of  society — the  greatest 
honor  to  be  worked  for  and  won  under  the  stars.  So 
much  for  that  which  is  past,  and  that  which  is. 

And  now,  I  would  have  the  old  love  renewed.  I 
would  come  to  the  hearts  to  which  the  letters  have 
given  me  access  with  another  gift — with  food  for  appe- 
tites quickened  and  natures  craving  further  inspiration. 
I  would  bring  new  thoughts  to  be  incorporated  into 
individual  and  social  life,  which  shall  strengthen  their 
vital  processes,  and  add  to  their  growth.  I  would  con- 
tinue and  perpetuate  the  communion  of  my  own  with 


12  Gold-Foil. 

the  popular  heart.  To  do  this  successfully,  I  know 
that  1  must  draw  directly  upon  the  world's  experience, 
and  upon  the  results  of  my  own  individual  thinking, 
acting,  living.  I  know  that  no  truth  can  be  uttered  by 
a  soul  that  has  not  realized  it  in  some  way  with  hope 
to  be  heard.  Preceptive  wisdom  that  has  not  been 
vivified  by  life  has  in  itself  no  affinity  for  life. 

It  is  a  blessed  thing  that  the  heart  has  an  instinct 
which  tells  it  without  fail  who  has  the  right  to  teach 
it.  The  stricken  mother,  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  life- 
less form  of  her  first-born,  will  hear  unmoved  the  words 
of  consolation  and  the  persuasions  to  resignation  which 
are  urged  by  one  who  has  not  suffered,  even  though  he 
eloquently  draw  motives  from  the  highest  heaven; 
while  the  silent  pressure  of  her  hand  by  some  humble 
creature  who  has  hidden  her  treasure  under  the  daisies, 
will  inspire  her  with  calmness  and  strength.  The  world 
cares  little  for  theorists  and  theories, — little  for  schools 
and  schoolmen, — little  for  any  thing  a  man  has  to  utter 
that  has  not  previously  been  distilled  in  the  alembic  of 
his  life.  It  is  the  life  in  literature  that  acts  upon  life. 
The  pilgrim  who  knocks  at  the  door  of  the  human 
heart  with  gloved  hands  and  attire  borrowed  for  the 
occasion,  will  meet  with  tardy  welcome  and  sorry  en- 
tertainment ;  but  he  who  comes  with  shoes  worn  and 
dusty  with  the  walk  upon  life's  highway — with  face 
bronzed  by  fierce  suns  and  muscles  knit  by  conflict 


An  Exordial  Eflay.  13 

with  the  evils  of  the  passage,  will  find  abundant  en- 
trance and  hospitable  service. 

The  machinery  which  I  propose  to  adopt  for  my 
purpose  is  simple  enough.  It  is  the  habit  of  the  mind 
to  condense  into  diminutive,  agreeable  and  striking 
forms  the  results  of  experience  and  observation  in  all 
the  departments  of  life.  As  the  carbon,  disengaged  by 
fire  in  its  multitudinous  offices,  crystallizes  into  a  dia- 
mond that  flashes  fire  from  every  facet,  and  bears  at 
every  angle  the  solvent  power  of  the  mother  flame ;  so 
great  clouds  of  truth  are  evolved  by  human  experience, 
which  are  crystallized  at  last  into  proverbs,  that  flash 
with  the  lights  of  history,  and  illuminate  the  darkness 
which  rests  upon  the  track  of  the  future.  The  proverbs 
of  a  nation  furnish  the  index  to  its  spirit  and  the  re- 
sults of  its  civilization.  As  this  spirit  was  kind  or  un- 
kind— as  this  civilization  was  Christian  or  unchristian 
— are  the  proverbs  valuable  or  worthless  to  us.  I 
know  of  no  more  unworthy  sentiments,  no  more  dan- 
gerous heresies,  and  no  more  mischievous  lies  than  are 
to  be  found  among  the  proverbs  that  have  received 
currency,  and  a  permanent  record  in  the  world  ;  but 
here  and  there  among  the  ignoble  paste  shine  noble 
gems,  and  these,  as  they  may  seem  worthy,  I  propose 
to  use  as  textual  titles  for  these  new  essays  of  mine.  I 
choose  them  because  they  are  the  offspring  of  experi- 
ence— because  they  are  instinct  with  blood  and  breath 


14  Gold-Foil. 

and  vitality.  They  have  no  likeness  to  the  unverified 
deductions  of  reason.  They  are  not  propositions,  con- 
ceived in  the  understanding  and  addressed  to  life,  but 
propositions  born  of  life  itself,  and  addressed  to  the 
heart.  They  were  not  conceived  in  the  minds  of  the 
great  few,  but  they  sprang  from  the  life  of  the  people. 
I  give  the  people  their  own. 

Precisely  what  these  essays  of  mine  are  to  be,  I 
cannot  tell,  because  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know  that 
there  is  an  inexhaustible  realm  of  practical  truth  around 
me  waiting  for  revelation.  There  are  multitudinous 
thoughts,  now  trailing  upon  the  ground,  that  point 
their  tendrils  tipped  with  instinct  toward  this  pen  of 
mine,  striving  to  reach  and  twine  themselves  around  it 
that  they  may  be  lifted  into  the  sunlight  of  popular 
recognition.  I  have  got  my  spindle  and  my  distaff 
ready — my  pen  and  mind — never  doubting  for  an  in- 
stant that  God  will  send  me  flax.  Toward  the  soul 
which  places  itself  in  the  attitude  of  reception,  all 
things  flow.  For  such  a  soul  are  all  good  gifts  fash- 
ioned in  heaven.  The  sun  shines  for  it ;  the  birds  sing 
for  it ;  up  toward  it  the  flowers  swing  their  censers 
and  waft  their  odors.  Into  it  in  golden  streams  flows 
the  beauty  of  star-sprinkled  rivers.  The  roar  of  waters 
and  the  plash  of  waterfalls  give  healthful  pulse  to  its 
atmosphere.  Into  its  open  windows  come  the  notes  of 
human  joy  and  human  woe  in  the  triumphs  and  the 


An  Exordial  Eflay.  15 

struggles  of  the  passing  time.  Past  its  open  door 
Memory  leads  the  long  procession  of  its  precious  dead, 
who  look  in  with  sweet  faces  and  whispers  of  peace. 
In  front  of  it,  Imagination  marshals  the  forces  of  the 
future,  and  it  thrills  with  the  bugle-blast  and  trembles 
with  the  drum-beat  of  the  thundering  host.  For  per- 
ception were  all  things  made,  and  to  the  door  of  per- 
ception all  things  tend ;  so  that  the  soul  that  throws 
itself  wide  open  to  ah1  that  is  made  for  it  shall  find 
itself  full. 

When  a  soul  thus  receptive  places  itself  in  the  atti- 
tude of  expression,  it  has  but  to  move  its  lips  and  the 
words  will  flow.  The  mind  that  has  become  a  treasure 
house  of  truth  and  beauty  speaks  a  world  into  existence 
with  every  utterance.  Expression  is  its  instinct  and  its 
necessity.  This  expression  may  not  always  seek  the 
shape  of  language,  but  it  will  assert  itself  in  some  form. 
The  patriot  reveals  the  secret  of  his  soul  when  he 
gladly  dies  for  his  country,  and  sacrifices  his  life  upon 
the  altar  of  his  inspiration.  The  Sister  of  Mercy  tells 
the  story  of  her  love  and  her  devotion,  unseen  and  un- 
heard of  the  world,  in  midnight  ministrations  to  the 
comfort  of  the  sick  and  the  dying.  The  modest  mother 
expresses  the  love  and  life  she  has  received  from  God 
and  the  tilings  of  God  in  the  tutelage  of  the  young 
spirits  born  of  her,  and  the  creation  of  a  bright  and 
graceful  home  for  them.  We  give  what  we  have  re- 


16  Gold-Foil. 

ceivcd — that  which  is  within  us  will  out  of  us.  Expres- 
sion is  the  necessity  of  possession. 

The  form  which  expression  takes  depends  upon 
natural  tendencies  and  aptitudes,  and  habits  imposed 
by  circumstances  and  opportunities.  I  suppose  that  to 
every  man  who  writes  &  tfook,  or  is  in  the  habit  of 
writing  books,  there  comes  at  the  conclusion  of  each 
effort  a  sense  of  exhaustion.  Then,  through  days,  and 
weeks,  and  months,  he  walks  contentedly,  taking  in 
new  food — without  method,  without  design — any  thing, 
every  thing — regaling  his  sensibilities,  ministering  to  his 
appetite  for  knowledge,  exercising  his  sympathies,  ab- 
sorbing greedily  all  the  influences  evolved  by  the  life 
around  him,  till  there  steals  upon  him,  insensibly,  the 
desire  for  another  instalment  of  expression  in  the 
habitual  way.  He  finds  himself  organizing  the  truth 
he  has  received  into  harmonious  and  striking  forms. 
He  is  arrested  in  fits  of  abstraction  into  which  he  has 
fallen  unawares.  He  will  not  be  content  until  the  pen 
is  in  his  hand,  and  his  mind  has  applied  itself  to  the 
work  demanded  by  its  condition. 

But  about  the  flax  that  God  sends  to  such  a  man : 
this  would  all  seem  to  be  pulled  from  the  earth,  softened 
by  sun  and  rain,  and  broken  and  hackled  by  natural 
processes.  True:  and  yet  I  imagine  there  are  few 
thinking  minds  in  the  world  that  are  not  aware  of  a 
double  process  by  which  expression  is  arrived  at — one 


An  Exordial  Effay.  17 

entirely  involuntary,  lying  deep  down  in  the  conscious- 
ness, and  operated  independently  of  volition ;  and 
another,  voluntary,  lying  upon  the  surface,  and  mostly 
engaged  in  the  invention  of  forms — dependent  for  ma- 
terials upon  the  process  beneath  it.  This  is  the  reason 
why  millions  of  men  undertake  to  do  what  they  never 
can  do.  The  involuntary — the  divine  process — work- 
ing profoundly  in  their  natures,  throws  up  materials 
which  they  have  no  power  to  clothe  in  language,  or 
present  in  forms  of  art  which  the  mind  will  recognize 
as  appropriate.  Such  men  are  misled.  They  strive  to 
write  essays,  and  fail.  They  struggle  to  produce 
poems,  but  cannot.  They  have  abundant  materials  for 
essays  and  epics  in  them,  but  they  are  incapable  of  com- 
bining and  expressing  them.  Many  men  and  women 
spend  their  lives  in  unsuccessful  efforts  to  spin  the  flax 
God  sends  them  upon  a  wheel  they  can  never  use. 
The  trouble  with  these  people  is  that  they  have  made 
a  mistake  in  their  spindle.  It  is  with  the  human  mind 
as  with  the  plant.  Deep  down  under  ground  there  is  a 
process  of  selection  going  on,  by  which  salts  and  juices 
are  drawn  by  a  million  roots  and  rootlets  into  the  stem 
—drawn  from  masses  of  mould  and  sand  and  gravel — 
and  sent  upward  to  be  acted  upon  again — flax  sent  up 
by  God  to  be  spun.  Every  tree  and  shrub  is  a  distaff 
for  holding,  and  every  twig  a  spindle  for  spinning  the 
material  with  which  God  invests  it.  One  twig,  by  a 


18  Gold-Foil. 

power  of  its  own,  will  make  an  apple,  another  a  peach, 
another  a  pear,  another  will  spin  through  long  weeks 
upon  a  round,  green  bud,  and  then  weave  into  it  star- 
beams  and  moonbeams  and  sunbeams,  and  burst  into  a 
rose.  *f  he  man  full  of  juices  and  rich  with  life,  who 
was  made  simply  to  bear  Roxbury  Russets,  and  yet  un- 
dertakes to  bear  roses  or  magnolia  blossoms,  will  always 
fail.  Blessed  is  that  man  who  knows  his  own  distaffj 
and  has  found  his  own  spindle. 

It  is  with  the  conviction  that  this  pen  which  I  hold 
is  my  particular  spindle  that  I  begin  upon  the  flax  God 
sends  me,  through  a  process  entirely  independent  of  my 
will,  and  undertake  to  spin  a  series  of  essays,  kind 
readers,  for  you.  That  I  may  be  able  to  contribute  a 
worthy  thread  to  the  warp  of  your  lives,  or  at  least  to 
furnish  a  portion  of  their  woof — contributing  to  their 
substance,  if  not  to  their  beauty — is  my  warmest  wish 
and  my  most  earnest  prayer. 


n. 

THE  INFALLIBLE  BOOK. 

41  He  that  leaves  Certainty  and  sticks  to  Chance, 
When  fools  pipe,  he  may  dance." 

11  Better  ride  an  ass  that  carries  us  than  a  horse  that  throws  us." 

WE  live  in  the  future.  Even  the  happiness  of  the 
present  is  made  up  mostly  of  that  delightful 
discontent  which  the  hope  of  better  things  inspires. 
"We  lie  all  our  invalid  lives  by  the  side  of  our  Bethesda, 
watching  the  uneasy  quicksand  upon  its  bottom,  hi  its 
silvery  eruptions,  and  listening  to  the  murmuring  gurgle 
of  the  retiring  streamlet,  yet  waiting  evermore  for  the 
angel  to  come  and  stir  the  waters  that  we  may  be  blest. 
The  angel  comes,  and  the  waters  are  stirred,  but  not 
for  us ;  and,  though  others  grasp  the  blessing  which  we 
may  not,  we  look  for  the  angel  still,  and  in  this  sweet 
looking  fall  happily  asleep  at  last,  and  waken  possibly 
in  the  angel's  arms ; — possibly,  where  ?  As  the  future 


20  Gold-Foil. 

holds  our  happiness  and  hopes,  so  does  it  also  hold  our 
fears  and  our  apprehensions ;  and  the  mind  is  on  a  con- 
stant outlook  for  that  upon  which  it  can  best  rely  to 
avoid  the  evils  which  it  dreads,  and  secure  the  good 
which  it  desires.  It  reaches  in  all  directions  with  its 
hands,  and  tries  in  all  directions  with  its  feet,  for  a  solid 
basis  of  calculation  and  expectation,  with  reference  to 
its  future  pleasure  and  pain.  As  the  future  is  inscru- 
table, it  reads  carefully  the  lessons  of  experience, 
studies  the  nature  and  tendency  of  things  having  rela- 
tion to  its  life,  erects  theories  and  institutes  schemes  of 
good,  and  bends  its  energies  to  the  achievement  and 
security  of  protection,  necessary  ministry,  and  all  de- 
sirable possession.  All  this  it  does  with  reference  to 
the  few  years  of  mortal  life  which  remain  to  it. 

But  there  is  a  God  above  the  soul,  and  there  is 
something  within  it  which  prophesies  of  another  life. 
The  body  is  to  die ;  so  much  is  certain.  "What  lies  be- 
yond? No  one  who  passes  the  charmed  boundary 
comes  back  to  tell.  The  imagination  visits  the  realm 
of  shadows — sent  out  from  some  window  of  the  soul 
over  life's  restless  waters — but  wings  its  way  wearily 
back  with  no  olive  leaf  in  its  beak  as  a  token  of  emerg- 
ing life  beyond  the  closely-bending  horizon.  The 
great  sun  comes  and  goes  in  heaven,  yet  breathes  no 
secret  of  the  ethereal  wildernesses.  The  crescent  moon 
cleaves  her  nightly  passage  across  the  upper  deep,  but 


The  Infallible  Book.  21 

tosses  overboard  no  message,  and  displays  no  signals. 
The  sentinel  stars  challenge  each  other  as  they  walk 
their  nightly  rounds,  but  we  catch  no  syllable  of  the 
countersign  which  gives  passage  to  the  heavenly  camp. 
Shut  in !  Shut  in !  Between  this  life  and  the  other 
life  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed,  across  which  neither  eye 
nor  foot  can  travel.  The  gentle  friend  whose  eyes  we 
closed  in  their  last  sleep  long  years  ago,  died  with  rap- 
ture in  her  wonder-stricken  eyes,  a  smile  of  ineffable 
joy  upon  her  lips,  and  hands  folded  over  a  triumphant 
heart;  but  her  lips  were  past  speech,  and  intimated 
nothing  of  the  vision  that  enthralled  her. 

So,  in  the  lack  of  all  demonstration,  we  have  but 
one  resort,  and  that  is  to  faith.  Faith  must  build  a 
bridge  for  us ;  faith  must  weave  wings  for  us ;  and  that 
faith  must  find  materials  for  its  fabrics  brought  from 
the  other  side  of  the  gulf,  and  not  produced  on  this. 
We  cannot  enter  the  spirit  land  to  explore,  record,  and 
report ;  so  all  we  get  must  be  revealed  to  us.  We  may 
talk  never  so  loudly  of  the  intimations  of  the  immor- 
tality within  us,  of  the  light  of  reason  and  of  conscience, 
of  tho  godlike  human  soul ;  we  may  speculate  with  mar- 
vellous ingenuity  upon  tho  future  development  and  des- 
tiny of  powers  that  seem  angelic  even  to  ourselves,  but 
it  is  all  conjecture — it  is  all  as  unsubstantial  as  the 
dreams  that  haunt  our  slumbers.  Unless  God  teach  us 
of  the  things  of  God,  or  delegate  some  occupant  of  a 


22  Gold-Foil. 

heavenly  seat  to  tell  us  of  the  things  of  heaven  and  of 
the  destiny  of  the  great  family  of  intelligences  to  which 
we  belong,  we  shall  know  nothing  upon  these  subjects. 
Briefly,  all  knowledge  concerning  the  future  condition 
of  men  must  come  from  the  other  world  to  this,  and 
not  through  any  agency  initiated  in  this.  We  are  thus 
helplessly,  inevitably,  left  to  revelation.  We  cannot 
help  ourselves.  We  may  flutter  and  flounder  under 
this  conviction  as  much  as  we  choose,  but  fluttering 
and  floundering  avail  nothing.  If  the  fact  that  we  are 
immortal  be  not  revealed  to  us  by  a  Being  who  knows, 
and  cannot  lie ;  if  the  way  to  make  our  immortality  a 
happy  one  be  not  pointed  out  to  us  by  one  who  has  the 
right  to  direct,  then  are  we  in  darkness  that  may  be 
felt — then  are  we  afloat  upon  a  wide  sea,  without  rud- 
der or  compass. 

Now,  there  can  be  no  faith  in  any  revelations  con- 
cerning the  future  state,  and  no  faith  in  the  things  re- 
vealed, without  a  thorough  conviction  on  the  part  of 
the  soul  exercising  it  that  the  source  from  which  these 
revelations  come  is  infallible.  They  must  also  be  au- 
thoritative, and  fully  received  as  such  into  the  convic- 
tions, or  they  are  nothing.  A  revelation  from  any 
source,  touching  whose  authority  the  soul  admits  a 
doubt,  is  absolutely  valueless  as  an  inspirer  of  faith. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  all  the  unsettled  mind  in 
Christendom  is  drifting  either  towards  an  infallible 


The  Infallible  Book.  23 

Bible,  or  an  infallible  church,  or  an  infallible  atheism — 
infallible  because  denying  every  thing — shutting  God 
and  the  future  out  of  existence.  With  many  the  drift- 
ing process  is  done  with,  and  the  journey  is  completed 
in  rest  and  satisfaction.  Many  can  say,  with  the  Bible 
upon  the  heart — "  This  is  God's  word.  It  is  my  rule 
of  life.  I  believe  in  the  God  and  the  immortality  which 
it  reveals.  I  trust  in  it,  and  am  happy."  Others,  edu- 
cated to  believe  in  an  infallible  church,  or  struggling 
through  frightful  years  of  skepticism,  have  taken  refuge 
in  Rome,  and  tied  up  to  the  element  of  infallibility 
which  they  imagine  they  find  there.  Others  still  are 
either  practically  or  professedly  atheists  and  infidels, 
discarding  Bible  and  church,  and  resting,  or  trying  to 
rest,  in  the  infallibility  of  a  broad  negation. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  prove  the  infallibility  of  the  Bible, 
in  part  or  in  whole.  I  have  not  undertaken  the  task 
in  this  article,  nor  do  I  propose  to  undertake  it  in  any 
future  article.  Neither  do  I  undertake  to  show  that  an 
infallible  church  cannot  be  made  out  of  fallible  mate- 
rials. Still  less  do  I  undertake  to  prove  the  existence 
of  a  God  and  a  future  life.  I  take  it  for  granted  that 
the  question  of  a  future  life  is  one  of  great  interest  to 
all  minds,  and  the  question  of  its  happiness  or  misery, 
of  the  greatest,  to  most.  I  assume  that  the  Bible  com- 
municates a  correct  knowledge  of  God  and  human 
duty  and  destiny,  or  that  nothing  whatever  is  known 


24  Gold-Foil. 

of  them.  I  assert  that  in  the  degree  in  which  this 
Bible  has  been  received,  as  a  whole  and  in  particulars, 
as  the  infallible  rule  of  faith  and  duty,  have  those  thus 
receiving  it  found  rest,  peace,  fearlessness  of  the  future, 
and  hope  of  everlasting  happiness.  I  affirm  that  in  the 
degree  in  which  men  have  wandered  away  from  this 
Bible  into  skepticism,  or  taken  it  into  their  hands  to 
cheapen  the  character  of  its  inspiration — to  cut,  and  cull, 
and  criticize — have  they  made  themselves  and  others 
unhappy.  All  that  has  been  done  to  weaken  the  foun- 
dation of  an  implicit  faith  in  the  Bible,  as  a  whole,  has 
been  at  the  expense  of  the  sense  of  religious  obligation, 
and  at  the  cost  of  human  happiness. 

The  mind,  in  such  a  matter  as  this,  seeks  for  some- 
thing reliable,  and  will  have  it.  If  it  cannot  find  it,  it 
will  make  it.  If  it  will  not  accept  the  Bible  as  such,  it 
will  make  an  infallible  church,  or  deify  and  enthrone 
the  human  reason.  One  of  the  most  interesting  devel- 
opments of  modern  spiritualism  is  the  illustration  which 
it  gives  us  of  this  fact.  Tired  with  the  puerile  and 
contradictory  revelations  which  it  gets,  or  supposes  it 
gets,  from  the  spirit  world,  it  has,  in  multitudes  of  in- 
stances, sunk  into  a  cold  rationalism,  or  thrown  itself, 
disgusted  and  discouraged,  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  by  a  very  necessity.  Now  there  is 
no  logical  tendency  of  spiritualism  into  systems  so  di- 
verse a*  these  It  is  the  instinctive  leap  of  a  soul,  mis- 


The  Infallible  Book.  25 

led  by  its  intellect,  yet  true  to  its  wants,  out  of  a  jargon 
of  demoniacal  whims  into  something  which  has,  or  as- 
sumes to  have,  infallibility.  The  rush  of  atheists  and 
infidels  into  spiritualism — atheists  and  infidels  practical 
and  theoretical — is  the  rush  of  a  class  of  minds  that 
find  it  hard  to  believe  without  demonstration,  and  seek 
among  these  necromantic  manifestations  for  something 
better  than  its  reason,  and  more  readily  evident  to  it 
than  the  revelations  of  the  Bible. 

I  say  that  toward  an  infallible  Bible,  or  an  infallible 
church,  or  an  atheism  and  infidelity  growing  out  of  the 
deification  of  the  human  reason,  the  mind  of  aU  unset- 
tled Christendom  is  drifting,  by  a  necessity  of  its  na- 
ture. It  will  have  something  upon  which  it  can  rely. 
It  cannot  abide  uncertainty ;  it  must  have  faith.  His- 
tory will  teach  us  something  of  the  different  results 
thrown  up  by  these  three  currents  of  life.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  allude  to  the  paralysis  of  spiritual  life  that 
befalls  a  soul  which  places  itself  in  the  keeping  of  a 
church — which  surrenders  itself  to  the  mortifications 
and  irrational  impositions  of  an  irresponsible  hierarchy. 
The  abuses,  outrages,  corruptions,  Avars,  and  awful  im- 
moralities that  have  grown  out  of  a  church  like  this, 
are  matters  which  almost  monopolize  the  pages  of  his- 
tory, and  sufficiently  prove  that  it  has  its  basis  in  error 
and  its  authority  in  arrogant  assumption.  When 
the  people  of  France  pulled  down  both  God  and 


26  Gold-Foil. 

the  church,  and  set  up  reason  in  their  place,  all 
the  infernal  elements  of  human  nature  held  their 
brief  high  carnival.  That  one  terrific  experiment 
should  be  enough  for  a  thousand  worlds,  through 
countless  years. 

So,  cut  off  in  all  other  directions,  we  come  back  to 
the  Bible.  If  that  be  not  authoritative,  nothing  is.  If 
that  be  not  infallible,  as  a  revelation  from  God  of  his 
own  character,  the  nature  of  the  coming  life,  and  the 
relations  of  this  life  to  it,  then  nothing  is  infallible,  and 
the  faith,  without  which  eai'th  is  a  cheat  and  life  a  sorry 
jest,  is  impossible.  "What  do  we  find  to  be  the  fruits 
of  a  living,  practical  faith  in  an  infallible  Bible  ?  The 
most  prominent,  or  that  which  appears  most  prominent, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  is  a  missionary  spirit  in  contra- 
distinction to  a  proselyting  spirit.  The  really  missionary 
work  of  the  world  has  been  done  in  the  past,  and  is 
now  being  effected,  by  those  who  receive  the  Bible  un- 
mutilated  as  God's  word  to  men.  The  noblest  heroisms 
that  illustrate  the  history  of  the  race  have  their  inspira- 
tion in  implicit  faith  in  the  Bible.  Men  in  whom  life 
was  fresh  and  strong,  and  women  who  were  the  imper- 
sonations of  gentleness  and  delicacy,  have  died  for  it 
the  martyr's  death  of  fire,  singing  until  the  red-tongued 
flames  licked  up  their  breath.  Out  of  it  have  come  all 
pure  moralities.  Forth  from  it  have  sprung  all  sweet 
charities.  It  has  been  the  motive  power  of  regenera- 


The  Infallible  Book.  27 

tion  and  reformation  to  millions  of  men.  It  has  com- 
forted the  humble,  consoled  the  mourning,  sustained 

*  O ' 

the  suffering,  and  given  trust  and  triumph  to  the  dying. 
The  wise  old  man  has  fallen  asleep  with  it  folded  to 
his  breast.  The  simple  cottager  has  used  it  for  his  dy- 
ing pillow ;  and  even  the  innocent  child  has  breathed 
his  last  happy  sigh  with  his  fingers  between  its  promise- 
freighted  leaves. 

* 

Suppose  it  could  be  proved  that  this  Bible  is  all  a 
fable:  in  what  would  the  demonstration  benefit  us? 
It  is  all  we  have.  If  it  do  not  infallibly  teach  us  the 
truth  concerning  the  future  life,  and  instruct  us  in  the 
way  of  making  that  future  life  a  happy  one,  then  there 
is  nothing  that  does.  Suppose  it  could  be  proved  that 
parts  of  this  Bible  are  fabulous,  and  that  those  portions 
which  are  not  so  were  inspired  in  a  kind  of  general 
way,  like  the  writings  of  all  genius  which  is  both  great 
and  good :  who  would  be  the  better  or  the  happier  for 
it  ?  I  believe  it  to  be  demonstrable  that  no  greater 
calamity  could  befall  the  human  race  than  either  the 
general  loosening  up,  or  the  entire  destruction,  of  faith 
in  the  Bible,  even  were  the  whole  of  it  a  cunning  in- 
vention of  the  brain  of  man.  Better  an  ass  that  car- 
ries us  than  a  horse  that  throws  us.  Better  faith  in  a 
fablo  which  inspires  to  good  deeds,  conducts  our  powers 
to  noble  ends,  makes  us  loving,  gentle,  and  heroic,  eradi- 
cates our  selfishness,  establishes  within  us  the  principle 


28  Gold-Foil. 

of  benevolence,  and  enables  us  to  meet  death  with 
equanimity  if  not  with  triumph,  in  the  hope  of  a  glori- 
ous resurrection  and  a  happy  immortality,  than  the 
skepticism  of  a  kingly  reason,  which  only  needs  to  be 
carried  to  its  legitimate  issues  to  bestialize  the  human 
race,  and  drape  the  earth  in  the  blackness  of  Tar- 
tarus. 

So,  I  say,  let  us  stick  to  the  Bible — the  whole  of  it 
— from  Genesis  to  Revelation.  When  the  apostle, 
standing  on  the  heights  of  inspiration,  places  the  hand 
of  the  second  Adam  in  the  hand  of  the  first — the  Adam 
of  Genesis — I  believe  there  was  such  an  Adam,  and 
that  the  apostle  believed  it,  and  knew  it.  "When  I  see 
Christianity  emerging  naturally  and  logically  from  a 
religion  of  types  and  ordinances,  I  believe  that  that 
religion  is  a  portion  of  the  system  of  divine  truth. 
When  Christ,  standing  in  the  Temple,  declares  that 
the  Scriptures  testify  of  him,  I  believe  they  do  thus 
testify,  and  that  it  is  right  that  they  be  bound  up  with 
the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles  as  an  essential  portion  of 
the  grand  whole.  I  find  the  writers  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment constantly  referring  to  the  Old,  and  the  Old 
prophesying,  or  recording  the  preparation  for,  the 
events  described  in  the  New.  There  is  much  that  I 
do  not  understand,  and  no  little  that  seems  incredible ; 
but  I  see  no  leaf  that  I  have  either  the  right  or  the 
wish  to  tear  out  and  cast  away.  I  receive  it  as,  in  it- 


The  Infallible  Book.  29 

self,  independent  of  my  reason  and  my  knowledge,  an 
authentic,  inspired,  and  harmonious  whole.  I  pin  my 
faith  to  it,  and  rely  upon  it  as  the  foundation  of  my 
own  hope  and  the  hope  of  the  world. 

Rational  minds  will  ask  for  no  higher  proof  that  the 
Bible,  in  its  entirety,  is  reliable  as  a  revelation  from 
God,  than  the  nature  of  the  faith  which  is  based  upon 
it,  and  the  results  of  that  faith — the  noblest  phenomena 
of  human  experience — the  consummate  fruitage  of  hu- 
man civilization.  But  were  it  otherwise,  the  Bible  is 
our  best  wealth.  Were  it  widely,  wildly  otherwise, 
Heaven  withhold  the  hand  that  would  touch  it  destruc- 
tively !  Crazy  Kate,  who  parted  with  her  sailor  boy 
at  the  garden  gate  half  a  century  ago,  believes  he  will 
come  back  to  her  again,  carries  still  in  her  withered 
bosom  the  keepsake  which  he  gave  her,  and  decks  her 
silvery  hair  and  her  little  room  with  flowers,  to  give 
him  fitting  welcome.  This  hope  is  her  all.  In  this  she 
lives ;  and  in  this,  fallacious  though  it  be,  resides  all 
the  significance  of  her  life.  As  she  stands  upon  the 
rock  worn  smooth  by  her  constant  feet,  and  gazes 
hopefully  across  the  saddening  sea  into  the  yellow  sun- 
set, to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  long-expected  sail,  would 
it  not  be  inhuman  to  plunder  her  of  the  keepsake  and 
toss  it  into  the  waves,  or  tear  from  her  the  hope  that 
fills  with  blood  and  breath  the  long  perished  object  of 
her  idolatry,  and  swells  the  phantom  sails  that  arc 


30 


Gold-Foil. 


winging  him  to  her  bosom  ?  Whether  true  or  false, 
the  Bible  is  our  all — the  one  regenerative,  redemptive 
agency  in  the  world — the  only  word  that  even  sounds 
as  if  it  came  from  the  other  side  of  the  wave.  If  we 
lose  it,  we  are  lost. 


III. 


PATIENCE. 

"  The  world  was  not  made  in  a  minute." 

"  Every  thing  comes  in  time  to  him  who  can  wait" 

"  For  all  one's  early  rising  it  dawns  none  the  sooner." 

"  What  ripens  last  does  not  last,"  or,  "  soon  ripe,  soon  rotten." 

IF  there  be  one  attribute  of  the  Deity  which  aston- 
ishes me  more  than  another,  it  is  the  attribute 
of  patience.  The  Great  Soul  that  sits  on  the  throne  of 
the  universe  is  not,  never  was,  and  never  will  be,  in  a 
hurry.  In  the  realm  of  nature,  every  thing  has  been 
wrought  out  in  the  august  consciousness  of  infinite  leis- 
ure ;  and  I  bless  God  for  that  geology  which  gives  me 
a  key  to  the  patience  in  which  the  creative  process  was 
effected.  Alan  has  but  a  brief  history.  A  line  of  nine- 
teen old  men,  centenarians,  would,  if  they  were  to  join 
hands,  clasp  the  hand  of  Christ ;  and  the  sixtieth  of 
such  a  line  would  tell  us  that  his  name  is  Adam,  and 


32  Gold-Foil. 

that  he  does  not  know  who  his  mother  was.  Yet  this 
wonderful  earth,  unquestionably  constructed  with  ref- 
erence to  the  accommodation  of  our  race,  was  begun 
so  long  ago  that  none  but  fools  undertake  to  reckon  its 
age  by  the  measurement  of  years.  Ah !  what  baths  of 
fire  and  floods  of  water ;  what  earthquakes,  eruptions, 
upheavals,  and  storms  ;  what  rise  and  fall  of  vegetable 
and  animal  dispensations ;  what  melting  and  moulding 
and  combining  of  elements,  have  been  patiently  gone 
through  with,  to  fit  up  this  dwelling-place  of  man ! 
When  I  look  back  upon  the  misty  surface  of  the  dimly 
retiring  ages — the  smoking  track  over  which  the  tram 
of  creative  change  has  swept — it  fades  until  the  sky  of 
the  past  eternity  shuts  down  upon  the  vision ;  and  I 
only  know  that  far  beyond  that  point — infinitely  far — 
that  train  commenced  its  progress,  and  that,  even  then, 
God  only  opened  his  hand  to  give  flight  to  a  thought 
that  He  had  held  imprisoned  from  eternity ! 

But  the  old  rocks  tell  us  that  there  was  a  time 
when  animal  life  began — rude  and  rudimentary ;  typi- 
cal and  prophetic,  the  geologists  say.  We  may  call  it 
typical  and  prophetic,  if  we  choose  ;  and,  in  a  sense,  it 
undoubtedly  is  so.  But,  to  me,  all  these  forms  of 
animal  life  are  simply  patient  studies  of  man.  There 
seem  to  be  parts  of  man  in  every  thing  that  went  before 
him.  As  I  find  in  the  studio  of  the  artist  who  has  com- 
pleted a  great  picture,  studies  of  heads  and  hands,  and 


Patience.  33 

limbs  and  scenes  which  the  picture  embodies — con- 
venient prisons  of  fleeting  ideas — experiments  in  com- 
position and  effect — so  do  I  find  in  the  records  of  pre- 
Adamic  life  only  a  succession  of  studies  having  refer- 
ence to  the  great  picture  of  humanity.  God  was  in  no 
haste  to  get  the  world  ready  for  man,  and  in  no  haste 
to  make  him.  There  was  coal  to  lay  up  in  exhaustless 
storehouses.  There  were  continents  to  be  upheaved, 
seas  to  chain,  river-channels  to  carve.  There  was  an 
infinite  variety  of  germs  to  be  invented  and  made  in 
heaven,  a  soil  to  be  prepared  for  their  reception  on  the 
•arth's  surface,  and  a  broadcast  sowing  to  be  effected. 
What  infinite  detail !  What  intimate  arrangement  of 
special  laws  that  should  not  clash  with  one  another ! 
How  could  the  Creator  wait  so  long  to  see  the  being 
for  whom  all  this  pains-taking  preparation  was  in 
progress  ? 

Well,  when  the  process  was  at  last  completed ; 
when  the  marvellously  beautiful  but  diminutive  form 
of  Adam  walked  out  of  God's  thought  into  the  morning 
sunlight  of  Eden — walked  through  flowers  and  odors, 
and  among  animals  that  licked  his  hand  and  gambolled 
around  him  unscared ;  when  the  impalpable  forms  of 
angels  were  thick  around  him  in  an  atmosphere  uneasy 
with  its  burden  of  vitality,  how  did  the  Creator  regard 
him — the  object  of  all  this  patient  working  and  wait- 
ing ?  It  was  what  we  should  call  "  a  great  success." 
2* 


34  Gold-Foil. 

It  was  "  veiy  popular  "  with  the  observing  host.  The 
morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
shouted  for  joy ;  but  God  did  not  even  say  that  it  was 
"  very  good ; "  He  only  "  saw  "  that  it  was  so.  No 
ruffle  of  exultation  swept  over  the  bosom  of  that  sub- 
lime patience,  for  even  then  he  had  only  made  a  be- 
ginning !  He  had  only  made  a  place  for  his  creatures 
to  dwell  in.  Before  Him  stretched  almost  infinite 
cycles  of  duration.  In  the  far  perspective,  He  saw 
nations  rise  and  sink,  civilizations  blossom  and  decay, 
the  advent  and  the  mission  of  Jesus,  the  struggles  of 
good  and  evil,  of  light  and  darkness,  of  truth  and 
error  ;  and  on  the  remote  pinnacle  of  destiny,  faintly 
rising  to  his  eye  in  the  eternity  before  him,  the  blazing 
windows  and  the  white  pillars  and  spires  of  the  Temple 
of  Consummation ! 

Some  people  wonder  how  God  can  bear  as  He  does 
with  human  frailty  and  wickedness.  In  effect,  they  ask 
why  He  does  not  sweep  the  whole  race  out  of  exist- 
ence, and  start  again.  As  if  the  Being  who  had  pa- 
tiently wrought  and  waited  for  myriads  of  ages  to 
prepare  for  man  had  not  patience  to  allow  him  to  work 
out  his  destiny !  Ah,  short-sighted  mortals !  Has  not 
God  an  eternity  to  accomplish  His  ends  in  ?  Is  He, 
before  the  eyes  of  a  universe,  to  relinquish  an  experi- 
ment, and  pronounce  that  to  be  a  failure  on  which  He 
has  expended  such  infinite  pains  and  patience  ?  Not 


Patience.  35 

He;  and  the  man  must  be  idiotic  who  cannot  draw 
from  this  patience  food  for  hope,  even  when  mercy 
seems  exhausted. 

But  this  divine  element  enters  more  or  less  into 
human  character,  and  it  is  with  this  that  we  have 
specially  to  do.  There  is  no  well-doing — no  godlike 
doing — that  is  not  patient  doing.  There  is  no  great 
achievement  that  is  not  the  result  of  patient  working 
and  waiting.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  any  thing. 
One  thing  at  a  tune — all  things  in  succession.  That 
which  grows  fast,  withers  as  rapidly ;  that  which  grows 
slowly,  endures.  The  silver-leafed  poplar  grows  in  one 
decade,  and  dies  in  the  next ;  the  oak  takes  its  century 
to  grow  in,  and  lives  and  dies  at  leisure.  This  law  runs 
through  all  vegetation,  through  all  creation,  and  through 
all  human  achievement.  A  fortune  won  in  a  day  is  lost 
hi  a  day ;  a  fortune  won  slowly,  and  slowly  compacted, 
seems  to  acquire  from  the  hand  that  won  it  the  prop- 
erty of  endurance.  "We  all  see  this,  we  all  acknowl- 
edge it,  yet  we  are  all  in  a  hurry.  We  are  in  haste  for 
position ;  we  are  in  haste  for  wealth  ;  we  are  in  haste 
for  fame  ;  we  are  hi  haste  for  every  thing  that  is  desir- 
able, and  that  shapes  itself  into  an  object  of  life.  In 
that  worthiest  of  all  struggles — the  struggle  for  self- 
mastery  and  goodness — we  are  far  less  patient  with 
ourselves  than  God  is  with  MS.  We  forget,  too,  in  our 
impatience  with  others — with  their  weakness  and 


36  Gold-Foil. 

wrong-doing — that  there  is  One  who  sees  this  weakness 
and  wickedness  as  we  never  can  see  it,  yet  is  unruffled 
by  it.  "  Work  and  wait  " — "  work  and  wait " — is  what 
God  says  to  us  in  Creation  and  in  Providence.  We 
work,  and  that  is  godlike  ;  we  get  impatient,  and  there 
crops  out  our  human  weakness. 

Man  of  business,  do  the  gains  come  in  slowly  ?  Do 
your  neighbors  outstrip  you  in  prosperity  ?  Do  you 
hear  of  friends  grown  suddenly  rich  by  great  specula- 
tions, and  is  your  heart  discouraged  with  the  prospect 
before  you  ?  Does  it  seem  to  you  that  your  lot  is  hard 
beyond  that  of  other  men  ?  God  is  only  trying  to  see 
how  much  you  are  like  Him — how  much  of  His  own 
life  is  in  you.  If  He  is  the  kind  father  I  take  Him  to 
be,  He  is  quite  as  anxious  to  bless  you  as  you  are 
anxious  to  be  blest ;  and  as  He  does  not  appear  to  be 
in  a  hurry  to  have  you  become  rich,  it  strikes  me  that 
it  would  be  quite  as  well  for  you  to  take  your  stand 
with  Him,  and  be  willing  to  work  and  wait.  Don't  be 
in  a  hurry.  The  world  was  not  made  in  a  minute ;  yet 
what  a  marvel  of  beauty  and  wealth  it  is!  You  say 
that  you  have  worked  hard  enough,  and  that  is  very 
well ;  but  have  you  done  that  which  is  harder  than 
work,  and  quite  as  essential — have  you  waited  patiently 
and  well  ?  Have  you  not  been  fretting  and  complain- 
ing all  the  time  ?  All  things  come  in  time  to  him  who 
can  wait. 


Patience.  37 

Weary  mother,  with  a  clamorous  family  at  your 
knee — a  family  clamorous  for  bread,  for  clothing,  for 
amusement,  for  change  for  their  restless  natures — do 
you  get  impatient ;  and  do  the  fretful  words  sometimes 
escape  to  wound  those  young  ears  and  chafe  those  fresh 
hearts  ?  Do  you  look  forward  through  ten,  fifteen,  or 
twenty  years,  and,  seeing  no  intermission  of  daily  care 
for  these  impulsive  spirits,  and  ceaseless  ministry  to 
their  fickle  impulses,  sigh  over  your  bondage?  Be 
patient.  Think  of  God's  patience  with  His  family — a 
thousand  millions  here  on  the  earth  alone — deadly 
quarrels  going  on  among  them  all  the  time,  cheating 
between  brethren,  wildness  with  greed  for  gold,  mil- 
lions of  them  never  looking  up  to  thank  the  hand  that 
feeds  them  during  their  life!  Think  how  He  looks 
down,  and  sees  millions  bound  in  compulsory  servitude 
to  other  millions — sees  great  multitudes  meet  in  the 
madness  of  war  to  slaughter  one  another ;  sees  a  whole 
Avorld  lying  in  wickedness,  carelessness,  and  ingratitude. 
Mark  how  He  causes  the  seasons  to  come  and  go, 
how  seed-time  and  harvest  fail  not,  how  His  unwearied 
servant  the  sun  shines  on  the  evil  and  the  good  alike, 
how  the  gentle  rain  falls  with  no  discrimination  on 
the  just  and  the  unjust.  Think  how  He  patiently  bears 
with  your  impatience.  Listen !  There  comes  no  out- 
cry from  the  heavens  to  still  all  this  \vild  unrest ;  but 
gently,  patiently,  the  ministry  of  nature  and  of  Provi- 


38  Gold-Foil. 

dence  proceeds  from  day  to  day  and  from  year  to 
year — as  gently  and  patiently  and  unremittingly,  as 
if  it  were  universally  greeted  with  gratitude,  and  nour- 
ished only  plants  that  were  blossoming  with  praise. 
Can  you  not  be  patient  with  the  little  ones  you  love 
for  a  little  while  ?  You  really  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  impatience,  with  such  an  example  of  patience  as  God 
gives,  especially  as  you  are  a  sharer  in  its  benefits. 

Discouraged  pastor,  mourning  over  the  lack  of  re- 
sults in  your  ministry,  do  you  sometimes  get  impatient 
with  the  listlessness  and  coldness  of  your  flock,  and  rail 
at  them  in  good  set  terms  ?  Surely  you  have  forgotten 
who  and  what  you  are.  You  are  God's  minister — the 
promulgator  of  his  religion.  He  sent  the  Great  Teacher 
to  the  earth  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  :  and  those  to 
whom  He  was  sent  maligned  Hun,  doubted  Him,  perse- 
cuted and  killed  Him.  For  eighteen  hundred  years  He 
has  patiently  waited  to  see  the  religion  of  Jesus  estab- 
lished in  the  earth,  and  he  is  waiting  patiently  still, 
though  it  spreads  so  slowly  that  its  progress  from  cen- 
tury to  century  can  hardly  be  traced.  He  planted  the 
true  seed,  and  He  is  confident  that  it  will  germinate 
and  grow,  until  its  branches  shall  fill  the  whole  earth. 
He  has  confidence  in  His  truth  :  have  you  ?  Can  you 
not  be  content,  like  Him,  to  plant,  and  nourish,  and 
water,  and  tenderly  prune,  and  trust  for  the  issue  ?  He 
has  distinctly  told  you  that  with  all  your  planting  and 


Patience.  39 

watering  the  increase  is  only  of  Him.  If  you  are  faith- 
ful in  these  offices,  and  get  impatient  for  results,  does 
it  not  occur  to  you  that  you  are  getting  quite  as  impa- 
tient with  God  as  you  are  with  your  people  ?  If  He 
have  reason  for  withholding  increase,  you  have  no 
reason  to  find  fault.  The  work  is  His,  the  results  are 
His — they  are  not  yours.  Therefore  be  content  to 
work  and  wait,  for  no  man  can  work  in  perfect  harmony 
with  God  who  is  not  as  willing  to  wait  as  to  work. 
God  works  and  waits  always,  and  in  every  thing,  and 
you  are  a  discord  in  the  economy  of  His  universal 
scheme  the  moment  you  become  impatient. 

Champion  of  Truth,  lover  of  humanity,  hater  of 
wrong,  do  you  grow  tired  and  disgusted  with  your  fel- 
lows ?  Do  you  grow  angry  when  you  contemplate  in- 
stituted cruelty  ?  Are  you  tempted  to  turn  your  back 
upon  those  whom  you  have  striven  to  bless,  when  they 
stop  their  ears,  or  laugh  you  in  the  face  ?  Do  you  feel 
your  spirit  stirred  with  deep  disgust,  or  swelling  with 
rage,  when  those  to  whom  you  have  given  your  best 
life — your  noblest  love,  your  most  humane  impulses, 
your  truest  ideal  of  that  which  is  good — contemn  you, 
misconstrue  you,  and  persecute  you ; — when  those 
whom  you  seek  to  reform  brand  you  as  a  pestilent  fel- 
low, a  disturber,  and  a  busybody  ?  It  is  very  natural 
that  you  should  do  so,  but  it  is  far  from  godlike.  Be 
patient.  If  this  world  of  natural  beauty  was  not  made 


40  Gold-Foil. 

in  a  minute ;  if  it  had  to  go  through  convulsions  and 
changes,  age  after  age,  before  the  flowers  could  grow 
and  the  maize  could  spring,  think  you  that  the  little 
drop  of  vital  power  that  is  in  you  can  reform  the  world 
of  mind,  and  bring  out  of  chaos  the  realization  of  the 
fair  ideal  that  is  in  you  in  the  brief  space  of  your  life  ? 
Pour  into  your  age  your  whole  life,  if  it  be  pure  and 
good,  and  be  sure  that  you  have  done  something — your 
little  all.  There  shall  be  no  drop  of  that  life  wasted. 
Where  you  put  it  there  it  shall  be,  an  atom  in  the 
slowly  rising  monument  of  a  world  redeemed  to 
goodness. 

If  you  cannot  take  counsel  of  God  in  this  thing, 
and,  with  the  counsel,  courage,  take  it  from  the  most 
insignificant  of  His  creatures — the  madrepores  that 
build  islands  covered  with  gardens  of  wonderful  beauty 
under  the  sea.  The  little  polyp  may  well  be  discour- 
aged when  it  sees  how  little  it  can  do  in  the  creation 
of  the  coral  world  to  which,  by  a  law  of  its  nature,  it  is 
bound  to  contribute.  But  it  gives  to  this  world  the 
entire  results  of  its  little  life — a  calcareous  atom — 
and  then  it  dies.  But  that  atom  is  not  lost ;  God  takes 
care  of  that.  All  He  asks  of  the  madrepore  is  its  life, 
and  though  it  may  not  witness  the  glory  of  the  struc- 
ture it  assists  to  rear,  it  has  a  place  in  the  structure — 
in  essential  place — and  there  it  is  glorified.  Through 
those  strangely-fashioned  trees  the  green  sea  sweeps. 


Patience.  41 

and  wondering  monsters  swim  and  stare,  till,  little  by 
little,  as  the  ages  with  heavy  feet  tramp  over  the  upper 
earth,  they  rear  themselves  into  the  light,  and  hold  the 
turbulent  sea  asleep  beneath  the  smile  of  God.  Little 
by  little  they  lay  the  foundations  upon  which  a  new 
life  rests,  and  become  the  eternal  pillars  of  a  temple  in 
which  man  worships,  and  from  which  his  voice  of  praise 
ascends  to  Heaven.  Therefore,  if  the  patience  of  God 
do  not  inspire  and  instruct  you,  let  the  self-sacrifice  of 
the  polyp  shame  you,  and  the  results  of  that  sacrifice 
encourage  you.  Give  that  little  life  of  yours  with  its 
little  result  to  the  twig  where  you  hang,  never  minding 
the  surges  of  the  sea  that  try  to  dislodge  you,  nor  the 
monsters  that  stare  at  you,  and  be  sure  that  the  tree 
shah1  emerge  at  last  into  the  light  of  Heaven — the 
basis  and  the  assurance  of  a  new  and  glorious  life  for  a 
race. 

Poet,  forger  of  ideals,  dreamer  among  the  possibili- 
ties of  life,  prophet  of  the  millennium,  do  you  get  im- 
patient with  the  prosaic  life  around  you — the  dulness, 
and  the  earthliness,  and  the  brutishness  of  men  ?  Fret 
not.  Go  forward  into  the  realm  which  stretches  before 
you ;  climb  the  highest  mountain  you  can  reach,  and 
plant  a  cross  there.  The  nations  will  come  up  to  it 
some  day.  Work  for  immortality  if  you  will;  then 
wait  for  it.  If  your  own  age  fail  to  recognize  you,  a 
coming  age  will  not.  Plunge  into  the  eternal  forest 


42  Gold-Foil. 

that  sleeps  in  front,  and  blaze  the  trees.  Be  a  pioneer 
of  Time's  armies  as  they  march  into  the  unseen  and  un- 
known. Signalize  the  advance  guard  from  afar.  If 
you  have  the  privilege  of  living  the  glorious  life  of 
which  you  dream,  are  you  not  paid  ?  "Why,  there  are 
uncounted  multitudes  who  walk  under  the  stars,  and 
never  dream  that  they  are  beautiful.  There  are  crowds 
who  trample  a  flower  into  the  dust,  without  once  think- 
ing that  they  have  one  of  the  sweetest  thoughts  of  God 
under  their  heel.  There  are  myriads  of  stolid  eyes  that 
gaze  into  the  ethereal  vermilion  of  a  sunset  without 
dreaming  that  God  lighted  the  fire.  The  world  could 
see  no  beauty  in  the  greatest  life  and  character  that  ever 
existed,  why  they  should  desire  it,  and  yet  God  does 
not  get  impatient  because  He  is  not  recognized.  The 
stars  stnd  the  sky  as  thickly  as  ever ;  the  flowers  bloom 
as  freshly  as  at  first,  and  breathe  no  complaints  with 
their  dying  perfume ;  the  sunset  patiently  varies  its 
picture  from  nightfall  to  nightfall,  though  no  one  praises 
it ;  and  Christ,  in  the  garb  of  humble  men  and  women, 
looks  from  pure  and  patient  eyes  in  every  street,  and 
ooks  none  the  less  sweetly  because  he  is  not  seen. 
Therefore,  O  poet,  be  patient,  though  the  world  see  not 
the  visions  that  enchain  you,  and  remember  what  com- 
panionship is  yours.  Aye,  be  patient ! 


IV. 


PERFECT  LIBERTY. 

"  For  the  upright  there  are  no  laws." 

"  Laws  were  mode  for  rogues." 

"  Love  rules  his  kingdom  without  a  sword." 

"  Love  makes  labor  light." 

A  TIPSY  man,  laboring  alike  under  an  uncom- 
fortable confusion  of  ideas  and  an  incompetent 
control  of  his  muscles,  is  apt  to  find  a  sidewalk  of  com- 
mon width  too  narrow  for  him.  The  trees  and  lamp- 
posts rush  with  violence  to  assault  him,  curbstones  rise 
in  his  path  with  ruffianly  greetings,  and  the  inclination 
of  a  dead  level  is  such  that  at  last  he  slides  into  the 
gutter,  where  he  breathes  out  his  curses  upon  the  dan- 
gers of  the  way.  The  sober  man  walks  the  same  path 
without  seeing  lamp-post  or  tree,  and  without  being 
conscious  of  the  slightest  restraint  upon  his  movements. 
"NVe  put  a  poke  upon  a  vicious  cow,  because  she  has  a 
disposition  to  go  precisely  Avhere  she  is  not  wanted  to 


44  Gold-Foil. 

go — into  a  cornfield,  where  she  will  do  serious  damage 
to  the  proprietor,  and  kill  herself  with  over-eating. 
She  comes  up  to  the  fence  that  she  would  fain  demolish 
or  surmount,  and  the  new  restraint  vexes  her  beyond 
measure.  Her  companion  in  the  field  is  an  innocent, 
docile  creature,  that  is  content  with  her  honest  grass, 
and  her  honest  way  of  getting  it.  So,  while  the  thief 
stands  raving  and  floundering  at  the  fence,  she  fills  her- 
self with  clover,  and  contentedly  lies  down  to  the  pleas- 
ant task  of  rumination,  without  a  thought  of  restraint 
or  deprivation.  For  the  innocent  cow  there  is  no 
poke. 

The  perfect  liberty  of  any  faculty  of  the  mind  lies 
within  the  range  of  its  office.  Acquisitiveness  is  a 
faculty  of  mind.  It  is  endowed  with  a  certain  legiti- 
mate office,  and  in  that  office  it  has  full  liberty — liberty 
in  the  field  in  which  it  has  its  life.  If  it  overstep  the 
bound  of  its  office,  and  steal,  it  preys  upon  the  fruits 
of  the  liberty  of  others,  and  degenerates  into  licen- 
tiousness. Then  it  feels  the  law  which  defines  the  boun- 
daries of  its  field  of  liberty,  but  until  that  time,  the  law 
is  a  thing  unfelt.  A  horse,  standing  upon  the  beach, 
and  looking  out  to  the  sea  as  a  realm  forbidden  to  him, 
may  be  imagined  to  find  fault  with  the  line  of  surf  that 
warns  him  away  from  a  region  in  which  he  has  no  legiti- 
mate rights  and  no  legitimate  office.  The  beach  may 
be  free  to  him  for  miles,  and  pastures  may  recede  from 


Perfect  Liberty.  45 

it  for  other  miles,  over  which  he  has  liberty  to  run  and 
range  at  will,  with  the  opportunity  to  supply  all  his 
wants,  and  expend  all  his  vitality.     If  he  plunge  into 
the  sea,  he  feels  the  law  that  defines  the  boundaries  of 
his  perfect  liberty.   Laws  are  the  very  bulwarks  of  liber- 
ty. They  define  every  man's  rights,  and  stand  between 
and  defend  the  individual  liberties  of  all  men.    The  mo- 
ment that  law  is  destroyed,  liberty  is  lost ;  and  men  left 
free  to  enter  upon  the  domains  of  each  other,  destroy  each 
other's  rights,  and  invade  the  field  of  each  other's  liberty. 
No  man  ever  feels  the  restraint  of  law  so  long  as  he 
remains  within  the  sphere  of  his  liberty — a  sphere,  by 
the  way,  always  large  enough  for  the  full  exercise  of  his 
powers  and  the  supply  of  all  his  legitimate  wants.     It 
is  only  rogues  who  feel  the  restraints  of  law.    We  live 
in  a  free  country,  and  its  freedom  consists  in  the  pro- 
tection which  the  laws  give  to  each  man's  liberty  to 
pursue  his  legitimate  ends  of  life  in  a  legitimate  way. 
We  rejoice  in   these  laws,  because  they  guard  our 
liberty — not  because  they  interfere  with  it.     We  make 
them,  support  them,  and  obey  them,  in  the  exercise  of 
our  liberty.    They  stand  between  us  and  that  licen- 
tiousness which  is  the  invader  and  destroyer  of  liberty. 
There  is  no  state  of  society  under  heaven,  and  there 
can  be  none,  where  perfect  liberty  exists,  without  an 
obedience  to  law  so  glad  and  so  entire  that  the  re- 
straints of  the  law  are  unfelt. 


46  Gold-Foil. 

Thus  much  is  true,  without  any  reference  to  God, 
or  any  relation  to  religion.  Thus  much  is  philosophical- 
ly true.  Advancing  a  step  in  the  discussion,  another 
element  enters  in — the  element  of  love — the  perfect  law 
of  liberty.  The  moment  the  soul  is  lifted  in  love  to  its 
Maker,  and  extended  in  love  to  its  fellows,  the  whole 
realm  of  law  is  illuminated  by  a  new  light,  and  there  is 
only  darkness  beyond  its  boundaries.  Before  this  il- 
lumination, self-interest,  or  right  philosophical  judgment 
may  be  sufficient  to  keep  the  soul  contentedly  within 
the  boundaries  of  law.  After  it,  it  becomes  the  subject 
of  duty — duty  to  God  and  duty  to  man.  It  recognizes 
relationships  on  the  lines  of  which  it  is  to  flow  out  in 
piety  and  good  works.  The  law  which  defines  its  indi- 
vidual liberty  is  in  a  measure  sunk  out  of  sight,  and 
the  law  which  defines  its  duty  is  that  only  which  it  sees. 
The  influx  of  this  new  love  is  essentially  the  influx  of 
a  new  life.  This  realm  of  duty  is  the  one  which, 
through  the  vestibule  of  law,  I  have  endeavored  to 
lead  the  reader. 

Can  the  soul  enjoy  perfect  liberty  in  the  realm  of 
duty?  This  question  I  wish  to  answer  for  the  benefit 
of  a  great  multitude  of  men  and  women  who,  with  a 
sense  of  great  self-sacrifice,  have  taken  upon  them  the 
responsibilities  of  the  Christian  life.  To  these,  this  life 
is  a  life  of  crosses  and  mortifications.  They  find  their 
duty  unpleasant  and  onerous.  It  is  to  them  a  law  of 


Perfect  Liberty.  47 

restraint  and  constraint.  They  are  constantly  oppressed 
with  what  they  denominate  "a  sense  of  duty."  It 
torments  them  with  a  consciousness  of  their  inefficien- 
cy, with  a  painful  and  persistent  questioning  of  their 
motives,  with  multiplied  and  perplexing  doubts  of  the 
genuineness  of  their  religious  experience.  Christian 
liberty  is  a  phrase  of  which  they  know  not  the  mean- 
ing, for  they  are,  in  fact  and  in  feeling,  the  slaves  of 
duty.  They  feel  themselves  enchained  within  the 
bounds  of  a  system  superinduced  upon  their  life,  and 
not  in  any  proper  sense  incorporated  with  it. 

I  ask  the  question  again  :  Can  the  soul  enjoy  per- 
fect liberty  in  the  realm  of  duty  ?  I  answer  in  the  af- 
firmative, and  express  my  belief  that  that  liberty  may 
be  of  as  much  higher  quality  and  of  as  much  greater 
extent  than  in  the  realm  of  pure  law,  as  the  love  from 
which  it  springs  is  superior  as  a  basis  of  action  to  an 
intellectual  apprehension  and  acceptation  of  law  as  the 
condition  of  liberty.  Love  is  its  own  law,  and  duty  is 
only  the  name  of  those  lines  of  action  which  naturally 
flow  out  from  love.  I  apprehend  nothing  as  Christian 
duty  which  does  not  naturally  flow  out  from  Christian 
love.  All  those  actions  which  love  naturally  dictate* 
and  performs,  if  performed  by  any  individual  as  simple 
duties — performed  grudgingly  and  difficultly — amount 
to  nothing  as  Christian  actions.  They  become  simply 
bald  acts  of  morality,  and  have  no  connection  with  re- 


48  Gold-Foil. 

ligion.  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  Love  may 
constrain  to  acts  that,  for  various  reasons,  are  difficult 
of  performance  ;  but  difficult  acts,  performed  from  a 
simple  sense  of  duty — acts  in  no  way  growing  out  of 
love — acts  performed  only  for  the  satisfaction  of  con- 
science and  for  the  acquisition  of  mental  peace — are 
not  Christian  acts,  essentially,  and  cannot  be  made  to 
appear  such. 

Love,  I  say  again,  is  its  own  law.  A  man  who  loves 
God  supremely,  and  his  neighbor  as  himself,  may  do 
exactly  what  he  pleases — all  that  he  wishes  to  do — all 
that  by  this  love  he  is  moved  to  do.  There  is  no  li- 
cense here,  for  a  man  possessed  by  these  affections  will 
please  to  do,  wish  to  do,  and  be  moved  to  do,  only 
those  things  that  follow  the  lines  of  duty.  Here  is 
Christian  liberty,  and  it  is  nowhere  else.  Here  is 
Christian  liberty,  and  there  is  no  such  other  liberty  as 
this  under  the  sun.  It  is  the  liberty  of  angels  and  of 
God  Himself.  It  rises  infinitely  above  the  liberty  de- 
fined by  law,  and  is,  in  fact  and  in  terms,  "  the  liberty 
of  the  sons  of  God  " — one  of  the  most  suggestive  and 
inspiriting  phrases,  by  the  way,  contained  within  the 
lids  of  the  Bible.  The  most  beautiful  sight  this  earth 
affords  is  a  man  or  woman  so  filled  with  love  that  duty 
is  only  a  name,  and  its  performance  the  natural  outflow 
and  expression  of  the  love  which  has  become  the  cen- 
tral principle  of  their  life.  For  such  men  and  women 


Perfect  Liberty.  49 

there  is  neither  law  nor  duty,  as  a  hinderance  to  perfect 
liberty.  They  are  on  a  plane  above  both.  They  live 
essentially  in  the  same  love  out  of  which  law  and  duty 
proceeded.  Law  and  duty  were  born  of  love.  Love 
originally  drew  their  outlines  and  carved  the  channels 
of  their  operation,  and,  rising  into  an  appropriation  and 
incorporation  of  the  mother  element,  the  soul  loses,  of 
course,  the  necessity  of  its  offspring, — has,  in  fact, 
within  itself  both  element  and  offspring. 

Perhaps  my  meaning  will  be  more  exactly  appre- 
hended by  the  use  of  illustrations.  A  woman  finds 
herself  the  mother  of  a  family  of  children,  whom  she 
loves  as  her  own  life.  It  is  against  the  law  that  she 
turn  them  out  of  doors,  or  kill  them,  or  maltreat  them 
in  any  way.  Does  she  feel  the  restraint  of  these  laws  ? 
Does  she  ever  think  of  their  existence  ?  Do  they  cnr- 
tail  her  liberty  to  any  extent  ?  Not  at  all,  for  her  lovo 
is  her  law.  Rising  now  into  the  realm  of  duty,  we  see 
that  she  owes  to  them  the  preparation  of  their  food, 
the  care  of  their  persons  and  clothing,  ministry  in  sick- 
ness, home  education,  sympathy  in  trouble,  discipline 
for  disobedience,  and  all  motherly  offices.  Now  do 
these  duties  come  to  her  simply  as  duties  ?  Does  she 
feed  and  clothe  her  children,  minister  to  them  in  sick- 
ness, educate  them  and  sympathize  with  them,  from  a 
sense  of  duty  ?  Ah,  no  !  In  the  domain  of  motherly 
duty,  love  is  her  law,  and  the  performance  of  these 
3 


50  Gold-Foil. 

duties  is  simply  the  natural  outflow  and  expression  of 
the  love  which  she  bears  to  her  children.  The  stronger 
and  the  more  perfect  her  love,  the  smaller  the  restraints 
of  law  and  the  constraints  of  duty ;  and  when  this  love 
becomes,  as  in  many  instances  it  does  become,  an  all- 
absorbing  passion,  law  and  duty,  in  connection  with 
her  relations  to  her  children,  are  things  she  never  even 
dreams  of.  Her  neighbors  may  call  her  a  slave  to  her 
children,  but  she  knows  that  she  is  in  the  enjoyment  of 
a  most  delicious  liberty — the  liberty  to  do  precisely 
those  things  which  please  her  most,  inspired  by  a  love 
that  knows  neither  law  nor  duty. 

Suppose  now  that  this  mother  die  and  a  step-mother 
take  her  place.  She  may  find  among  those  children 
one  so  intractable  and  ungrateful  that  it  would  be  a 
pleasure  to  her  to  turn  it  out  of  the  house,  but  the  law 
prevents.  She  then  looks  upon  law  as  a  restraint  upon 
her  liberty.  But,  in  the  place  she  has  taken,  she  per- 
ceives that  she  owes  duties  to  this  family  of  children. 
She  has  an  intellectual  appreciation  of  the  duties  of  her 
office,  and  undertakes  to  perform  them.  We  will  sup- 
pose that,  from  a  simple  sense  of  duty,  she  devotes 
herself  to  them  as  thoroughly  as  their  own  mother  did 
before  her.  Under  circumstances  like  these,  duty 
would  become  a  burden,  and  a  bondage.  What  was 
almost  a  divine  liberty  with  the  mother,  becomes  to  the 
step-mother  a  crushing  slavery.  Conscientious  but 


Perfect  Liberty.  51 

unloving,  she  wears  out  a  life  of  servitude  to  duty,  and 
of  course  is  most  unhappy. 

It  seems  to  me  that  these  simple  illustrations  throw 
unmistakable  light  upon  this  whole  subject.  Christian 
love  knows  no  such  thing  as  slavery  to  law  and  to  duty 
The  higher,  the  purer,  and  the  stronger  this  love,  the 
more  do  law  and  duty  disappear,  until,  finally,  they  are 
unthought  of,  and  the  soul  finds  itself  free — without  a 
single  shackle  on  its  faculties,  or  a  single  restraint  upon 
its  movements.  It  acts  within  the  lines  of  law,  because 
its  highest  life  naturally  lives  within  them.  Those 
lines  are  not  described  to  it  by  a  foreign  or  superior 
power ;  they  are  defined  by  itself,  in  the  full  exercise  of 
liberty  born  of  love.  It  performs  its  duties  because 
they  lie  in  the  path  of  its  natural  action.  1ST  either  re- 
straint nor  constraint  is  felt,  because,  in  the  perfect 
liberty  which  is  born  of  perfect  love,  it  chooses  to  do, 
and  does,  that  against  which  there  is  no  law,  and  that 
in  which  abides  all  duty. 

So,  if  there  be  any  struggling,  sorrowful  Christians, 
who  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  up  daily  crosses,  and 
doing  unpleasant  things,  because,  and  simply  because, 
they  deem  them  to  be  duties,  I  have  only  this  to  say 
to  them — that  no  act  of  theirs,  performed  simply  be- 
cause it  is  a  duty,  and  performed  with  a  sense  of  con- 
straint that  does  not  come  from  genuine  love  to  God 
and  man,  can  be  looked  back  upon  as  a  Christian  duty 


52  Gold-Foil. 

worthily  performed.  As  a  moral  act,  conscientiously 
performed,  there  is  in  it  a  quality  of  goodness,  but  it  is 
the  work  of  a  slave  and  not  of  a  freeman.  My  servant 
may  bring  me  a  glass  of  water  because  I  command  her 
to,  and  in  so  doing  she  will  perform  her  duty,  though 
it  may  be  to  her  a  task.  If,  when  I  enter  my  house, 
heated  with  walking  and  labor,  my  daughter  bring  me 
a  glass  of  water,  from  love  of  me  and  sympathy  for  me, 
the  character  of  the  act  is  essentially  changed.  Her 
act  is  in  the  domain  of  perfect  liberty,  and  had  its  birth 
in  love.  The  two  acts  are  identical,  they  cost  the  same 
amount  of  labor,  both  were  performed  in  the  discharge 
of  a  duty,  yet  the  dullest  intellect  will  apprehend  a  dif- 
ference in  their  quality  that  elevates  one  almost  infi- 
nitely above  the  other. 

There  is  no  release  in  this  world,  or  the  next,  from 
the  restraints  of  law  and  the  constraints  of  duty,  save 
in  love.  Duty,  especially  out  of  the  domain  of  love,  is 
the  veriest  slavery  of  the  world.  The  cry  of  the  soul 
is  for  freedom.  It  longs  for  liberty,  from  the  date  of 
its  first  conscious  moments.  This  natural  longing  is 
not  born  of  depravity,  but  points  with  an  unerring 
finger  to  a  source  of  satisfaction  existing  somewhere 
for  it  in  the  universe  of  God.  Law  surrounds  us  while 
we  are  low,  and  we  beat  our  heads  against  it  and  are 
baffled.  Duty  takes  us  upon  a  higher  plane — on  the 
plane  of  conscience,  or  an  insufiicient  Christian  love, 


Perfect  Liberty.  53 

and  forces  us  to  the  performance  of  tasks  which  are 
hard  and  ungrateful.  We  ask  for  something  better 
than  this,  and  we  get  it  when  love  fills  us  full  of  itself, 
and  absorbs  us  into  itself.  What  the  Christian  world 
wants  is  more  love.  Love  rules  his  kingdom  without 
a  sword.  There  is  no  compulsion  here.  Love  makes 
labor  light.  There  are  no  unpleasant  tasks  here — at 
least,  none  whose  unpleasantness  destroys  a  divine 
pleasure  in  their  performance.  A  man  who  feels  that 
his  religion  is  a  slavery,  has  not  begun  to  comprehend 
the  real  nature  of  religion.  That  heart  of  his  is  still 
selfish.  There  is  lacking  the  elevation,  the  entire  con- 
secration which  alone  can  introduce  him  into  that 
glorious  liberty  which  the  real  sons  of  God  enjoy. 

Ah,  this  liberty !  How  little  have  we  of  it  in  the 
world !  How  we  go  groping,  and  mourning,  and  wail- 
ing through  the  darkness — walled  in  by  la\v,  goaded 
on  by  duty,  and  filled  with  the  fears  which  perfect  love 
casts  out,  when  all  the  while  there  hang  above  us 
crowns  within  our  reach,  which,  grasped,  would  make 
us  kings  !  Oh,  it  is  very  pitiful — this  sight  of  Christian 
slaves !  Most  pitiful,  however,  does  it  become,  when 
we  comprehend  the  fact  that  in  this  slavery  many  think 
they  find  the  evidence  of  their  Christianity.  They 
bear  burdens  throughout  their  lives  which  wear  into 
their  very  hearts,  and  think  there  is  merit  in  it.  Mor- 
tification, penance,  bondage — are  these  the  rewards  of 


54  Gold-Foil. 

Christianity  ?     Crosses,  servitude,  fear — are  these  the 
credentials  of  love  ?     Out  upon  such  mischievous  er- 
ror !     Into  it,  God  forbid  that  soul  of  yours  or  mine 
should  be  drawn !     "What  great  wonder  is  it  that  the" 
world  is  frightened  away  from  such  bondage  as  this  ? 

No :  perfect  love  holds  the  secret  of  the  world's 
perfect  liberty.  It  is  only  this  that  releases  us  from 
law,  and  discharges  us  from  duty,  by  making  law  the 
definition  of  our  life,  and  duty  the  natural,  free  outflow 
of  our  souls.  Into  this  liberty  Divine  Love  would  lead 
us.  Up  to  it  would  Heaven  lift  us.  In  it  only  is  the 
perfection  of  Christian  action.  In  it  only  can  the  soul 
find  that  freedom  for  which  it  has  yearned  through  all 
its  history.  In  it  only  lives  an  exuberant,  boundless 
joy — joy  in  tribulation,  joy  in  labor,  joy  in  every  thing 
except  that  world  of  slavish  life  that  lives  below  it, 
bound  to  law  and  duty,  to  forms  and  creeds,  to  morti- 
fications and  penances,  selfishness  and  sin.  "VVe  shall 
know  more  about  it  up  yonder. 


V. 


TRUST,  AND  WHAT  COMES  OF  IT. 

"  He  who  sows  his  land  trusts  in  God." 

"Trust  everybody,  but  thyself  most." 

"  Trusting  often  makes  fidelity." 

"  If  you  would  make  a  thief  honest,  trust  him." 

"  Trust  thyself  only,  and  another  shall  not  betray  thee." 

IT  is  sadly  humiliating  to  think  that  more  than 
a  moiety  of  the  world's  trust  in  God  is  blind  and 
unconscious.  We  trust  in  lines  of  precedent,  and  links 
of  succession,  and  laws  and  principles.  Very  little  of 
our  trust  is  immediate.  "We  sow  our  seed,  and  bury  it 
in  the  earth,  trusting  that  the  germs  we  deposit  will 
proceed  to  the  beautiful  unfolding  of  the  harvest ;  yet 
our  trust  is  in  the  seed,  the  season,  the  sun,  the  soil — 
any  thing  but  the  God  who  instituted  vegetable  life, 
and  all  its  laws  and  conditions.  We  are  compelled  to 
trust  something,  however,  or  we  should  die.  Trust 
lies  at  the  basis  of  every  scheme  of  human  life,  and  is 


56  Gold-Foil. 

the  corner-stone  of  the  temple  of  human  happiness. 
If  our  trust  fail  to  reach  God  directly,  or  if  it  fail  to 
become  transitive  through  nature  into  God,  then  it 
must  abide  in  nature.  It  must  live  somewhere.  We 
trust  to  some  power  or  principle  for  the  rising  and  the 
setting  of  the  sun,  for  the  sleep  of  winter,  the  resurrec- 
tion of  spring,  the  fructification  of  summer,  and  the 
fruition  of  autumn.  We  know  nothing  of  the  future. 
We  do  not  know  that  rain  will  fall — that  seed-time 
and  harvest  will  come ;  but  we  trust  that  they  will ; 
and  this  trust  is  so  strong  that,  practically,  it  answers 
the  purposes  of  foreknowledge — it  brings  the  feeling 
of  security  to  the  heart,  and  furnishes  a  basis  for  the 
plans  necessary  to  perpetuate  the  life  of  the  race.  But 
we  trust  no  further  than  we  can  see.  Something  must 
come  between  us  and  the  Being  upon  whom  we  rely 
for  every  thing,  before  our  hearts  will  poise  themselves 
in  trust.  We  trust  nature,  our  fellows,  and  even  God 
Himself,  because  we  are  obliged  to.  We  would  trust 
nobody  and  no  thing  if  we  could  get  along  without  it. 
We  trust  nature  because,  if  we  did  not,  we  could  not 
live.  We  trust  God,  strongly  or  feebly,  because  we 
know  that  in  the  life  beyond  this  our  destiny  is  in  His 
hands.  We  trust  our  fellows,  because  it  is  necessary 
to  have  one  heart,  at  least,  in  whose  confidence  we  may 
dwell.  A  man  who  is  poor  in  trust  is  the  poorest  of  ah1 
God's  creatures. 


Tiuft,  and  what  comes  of  it.  57 

"Now  why  this  strange  reluctance  in  trusting? 
Why  should  it  be  necessary  to  force  us  into  trusting 
when,  without  it,  we  cannot  be  happy  for  a  moment — 
when,  without  it,  we  cannot  institute  a  single  plan  re- 
lating to  the  future  ?  I  think  that  the  lack  of  trust  in 
God  and  our  universal  distrust  of  men  grow  out  of  a 
sense  of  our  own  ill  desert  and  our  own  untrustworthi- 
ness.  I  find  always  those  who  are  the  richest  in  trust 
toward  God  and  man  the  most  trustworthy  in  them- 
selves. I  find  those  who  go  about  with  open  hearts 
and  honest  lips,  with  no  intent  of  evil  toward  others, 
those  who  trust  men  the  most  invariably.  The  child 
trusts  because  it  finds  no  reason  in  itself  why  it  should 
not.  The  charity  that  thinketh  no  evil  trusts  in  God 
and  trusts  in  men.  The  heart  that  knows  itself  to  be 
false,  trusts  neither  in  God  nor  men.  So,  naturally, 
and  after  the  common  order  of  things,  we  shall  get  no 
more  trust  in  this  world  until  the  world  which  must 
bring  the  grace  into  exercise  is  better.  As  this  world 
grows  better,  the  trust  which  forms  the  basis  of  its 
happiness  will  grow  broader,  a  more  luxuriant  social 
life  will  spring  up,  and  the  great  brotherhood  of  hu- 
manity will  not  only  come  nearer  together,  but  they 
will  be  blended  and  fused  in  an  all-pervading  sympathy. 

Naturally,  and  after  the  common  order  of  things,  I 
say,  the  world  will  have  no  more  voluntary  trust  until 
it  is  better  ;  but  trusting  as  a  policy  may  be  instituted 
3* 


58  Gold-Foil. 

for  the  purpose  of  making  the  world  better ;  and  it  is 
this  policy  that  I  propose  to  make  the  subject  of  this 
article.  A  child  that  comes  to  me  in  danger,  or  sor- 
row, or  perplexity,  and  takes  my  hand,  and  looks  into 
my  eyes,  and  utters  its  wants  in  trust,  begets  in  me 
trustworthiness,  on  the  instant.  It  rouses  into  action 
all  within  me  that  is  good  and  honorable  and  true,  and 
I  cannot  betray  that  trust  without  a  loss  of  self-respect 
that  will  make  me  contemn  myself  for  a  life-time.  A 
maiden  who  comes  into  my  presence  in  guileless  trust, 
and  in  any  way  places  her  destiny  in  my  hands,  would 
shame  me  into  trustworthiness  were  my  heart  teeming 
with  impurity.  Even  the  timid  hare,  hunted  from 
field  to  field,  and  hard  beset  by  the  baying  hounds, 
would  find  a  protector  in  me  should  it  leap  desperately 
into  my  arms,  and  lay  the  tumult  of  its  frightened 
heart  upon  the  generous  beatings  of  name.  The  child, 
the  maiden,  the  hare  would  beget  in  me  trustworthi- 
ness, simply  by  trusting  me.  They  would  make  me 
considerate  and  generous  and  honorable.  I  should 
despise  myself  Avere  I  to  harm  either  by  a  thought. 
Such  beings,  under  such  circumstances,  would  come  to 
me  as  missionaries,  bearing  one  of  the  very  sweetest 
of  the  lessons  of  Christ. 

These  illustrations  seem  to  me  to  be  pregnant  with 
meaning,  and  instinct  with  illumination.  They  open 
to  me  the  door  of  a  policy,  and  reveal  to  me  a  ministry 


Truft,  and  what  comes  of  it.  59 

equally  beautiful  and  beneficent,  yet  they  involve  no 
new  law,  and  spring  out  of  no  newly-discovered  princi 
pie.  All  seed  produces  after  its  kind.  If  I  plant  corn, 
I  reap  corn ;  if  I  plant  lilies,  I  gather  lilies.  Like  pro- 
duces like  in  the  spiritual  no  less  than  in  the  material 
universe.  Love  begets  love  ;  anger  begets  anger.  If 
I  sow  to  the  wind,  I  reap  the  whirlwind.  So,  if  I  sow 
trust,  I  reap  trust.  The  soil  will  honor  the  seed.  Of 
course,  I  state  this  as  a  general  fact.  There  are  souls 
as  well  as  soils  that  will  produce  nothing  good.  There 
are  souls  as  well  as  soils  so  sour,  so  rank  with  pollution, 
or  so  poor,  that  nothing  but  weeds  will  grow  in  them ; 
but,  as  a  general  fact,  in  the  worlds  of  mind  and  mat- 
ter, the  soil  will  honor  the  seed.  Wherever  there  may 
be  the  slightest  promise  of  return,  we  are  to  sow  our 
trust. 

Now  what  is  the  aspect  that  life  presents  to  us  ? 
Is  it  not  that  of  universal  distrust  ?  Nay,  has  not  dis- 
trust become  an  instituted  thing,  that  has  taken  form 
in  maxims  and  proverbs  ?  There  is  hardly  a  language 
that  does  not  contain  a  proverb  which  says  in  words, 
or  effect,  "  Trust  thyself  only,  and  another  shall  not  be- 
tray thee  " — a  proverb  that  bears  the  very  singe  and 
Bcent  of  hell.  Thus  distrust  is  not  only  a  fact,  but  it 
has  become  a  policy.  It  is  inculcated  by  universal 
human  society ;  and  as  like  produces  like,  distrust  is 
everywhere  reaped,  because  it  is  everywhere  sown. 


60  Gold-Foil. 

We  take  no  pains  to  nurse  honor  by  trusting  it.  We 
trust  interest  and  appetite,  and  every  thing  base  and 
selfish  in  a  man,  quicker  than  we  do  any  good  quality 
in  him.  We  trust  that  which  is  beast-like  in  men,  and 
refuse  to  trust  that  which  is  godlike.  We  decline  to 
bring  honor  into  exercise,  and  honor  dwindles  under 
the  treatment. 

One  of  the  most  notable  illustrations  of  the  evil 
consequences  of  distrust  is  that  afforded  by  the  relative 
positions  of  the  sexes.  The  institutions  of  society  and 
education,  so  far  as  they  have  to  do  with  these  rela- 
tions, are  established  on  the  theory  that  men  and 
women  are  not  to  be  trusted  together.  Our  colleges 
and  schools,  and  all  the  institutions  and  usages  of  social 
life,  recognize,  as  a  cardinal  fact,  the  untrustworthiness 
of  men  and  women.  They  proceed  upon  the  theory 
that  men  will  betray  if  they  can,  and  that  virtue  in 
women  is  only  a  name.  Wherever  this  theory  is 
pushed  to  its  extreme,  there  we  shall  find  always  the 
qualities  suspected.  I  suppose  that  there  is  no  country 
in  the  world  where  young  women  are  guarded  with 
such  care  as  in  France.  The  very  extreme  of  punctilio 
is  exacted  on  the  part  of  parents,  and  a  woman  is  hardly 
allowed  to  see  her  lover  alone  until  after  her  marriage. 
The  duenna  is  her  companion  in  society,  as  constantly 
as  her  own  shadow.  Yet  in  France,  as  in  all  countries 
where  this  extreme  of  caution  is  observed — where  this 


Truft,  and  what  comes  of  it.  61 


distrust  takes  its  severest  form — is  female  virtue  the 
rarest,  and  masculine  licentiousness  the  most  universal. 
Virtue  shrinks  and  refuses  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  of 
universal  distrust.  Manly  purity  and  honor  find  no  use 
for  themselves  where  they  are  neither  believed  in  nor 
appealed  to.  This  distrust  of  the  sexes,  so  persistently 
and  powerfully  inculcated  by  society,  breeds  untrust- 
worthiness,  and  sows  broadcast  the  seeds  of  impurity. 
It  always  has  been  so,  and  it  always  will  be.  There  is 
no  remedy  but  in  releasing  society  from  the  control  of 
men  and  women  who  are  sadly  conscious  of  their  own 
weaknesses,  and  in  the  assumption  of  the  functions  of 
education  by  men  who  are  something  more  than  saintly 
and  suspicious  grandmothers. 

Just  look  at  this  thing.  Here  are  two  sexes,  in- 
tended by  Heaven  to  be  the  companions  of  each  other 
— intended  to  ennoble  and  purify  each  other,  to  enter 
into  the  most  intimate,  endearing  and  permanent  rela- 
tions with  each  other,  to  draw  from  each  other  the 
very  choicest  of  their  earthly  happiness — the  two  hemi- 
spheres of  humanity  necessary  to  the  perfection  and 
beauty  of  the  great  sphere  of  life — yet  trained  from  the 
first  dawning  of  their  regard  for  one  another  to  believe 
in  their  mutual  untrustworthiness !  They  are  seated  on 
different  sides  of  the  room  where  they  meet  to  worship 
a  common  Lord.  They  are  caged  in  boarding-schools, 
kept  from  association  by  all  possible  means,  kept  as 


62  Gold-Foil. 

much  as  may  be  from  all  knowledge  of  each  other, 
trained  to  impurity  of  imagination  by  the  very  restraints 
which  are  put  upon  them  to  keep  them  pure.  I  believe 
in  manly  honor  and  womanly  virtue;  and  that  the 
more  we  trust  them  the  more  we  develop  them.  I  be- 
lieve that  an  honor  never  developed  by  the  trust  of 
pure  and  womanly  hearts,  and  a  virtue  that  has  always 
lived  in  the  poisonous  atmosphere  of  distrust,  and  has 
never  come  out  to  stand  alone  in  its  own  sweet  self- 
assertion,  are  as  good  as  brown  paper,  and  only  better 
in  exceptional  instances.  I  believe  that  all  that  is 
needed  in  America  to  make  our  nation  as  untrustworthy 
as  France,  is  to  draw  the  reins  still  tighter,  build  the 
walls  of  partition  still  higher,  and  come  up,  or  down,  to 
the  policy  of  ignoring  or  contemning  any  power  of 
virtue  in  men  and  women  that  will  keep  them  from 
sin. 

Now  let  us  take  a  very  simple  and  suggestive  illus- 
tration of  this  principle  of  trust  as  it  bears  upon  our 
general  life.  We  meet,  passing  through  the  streets  of 
the  city  or  town  where  we  live,  a  stranger.  He  ap- 
proaches us,  and  informs  us  that  he  has  lost  his  way, 
and  inquires  the  direction  of  his  lodgings.  He  places 
himself,  in  his  ignorance  and  helplessness,  in  our  hands. 
He  trusts  the  direction  of  his  footsteps  entirely  to  us. 
We  can  deceive  him  if  we  will ;  but  we  are  upon  our 
honor  at  once.  We  are  trusted,  and  our  hearts  spring 


Truft,  and  what  comes  of  it  63 

naturally  and  instantaneously  np  to  honor  that  trust. 
"Now  there  is  not  one  man  in  one  hundred,  in  any  class 
of  society,  who  will  not  honor  so  simple  a  trust,  and 
who  does  not  feel  that  he  is  happier  and  better  in  con- 
sequence of  honoring  it.  As  polite  and  hearty  offices 
of  kindness  has  it  been  my  lot  to  receive  from  entire 
strangers,  under  circumstances  like  these,  as  I  have 
ever  received  in  my  life.  To  my  mind,  this  little  illus- 
tration denotes  the  general  trustworthiness  of  men,  and 
shows  to  me  that  if  I  approach  my  fellows  in  a  simple, 
honest  trust,  they  will  deal  fairly  with  me.  Perhaps  I 
should  except  itinerant  dealers  in  crockery  and  glass- 
ware,  professional  Peter  Funks,  Irishmen  who  work  by 
the  job,  and  others  whose  sole  living  it  is  to  get  large 
returns  for  insignificant  investments.  But  I  do  not 
propose  to  deal  with  these.  They  are  not  my  fellows, 
and  I  have  no  relations  with  them. 

Everything  good  in  a  man  thrives  best  when  prop- 
erly recognized.  Men  do  about  what  we  expect  of 
them.  If  a  man  with  whom  I  have  business  relations 
perceive  that  I  expect  him  to  cheat  me  if  he  can,  he 
will  commonly  do  it.  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  see  that 
I  place  implicit  faith  in  his  honor — that  I  trust  him — 
every  thing  good  in  the  man  springs  into  life,  and  de- 
mands that  that  trust  be  honored.  The  sordid  ele- 
ments of  his  character  may  possibly  triumph,  but  they 
will  triumph  by  a  struggle  which  will  weaken  them. 


64  Gold-Foil. 

If  I  am  unwilling  to  trust  my  son  or  my  daughter  out 
of  my  sight,  I  may  reasonably  expect  to  plant  and  nour- 
ish in  them  precisely  those  qualities  which  would  make 
it  dangerous  for  them  to  be  out  of  my  sight.  If  I  re- 
fuse to  trust  the  word  of  an  honest  man,  I  may  reason- 
ably expect  that  with  me,  at  least,  he  will  break  faith 
at  the  earliest  opportunity.  If  I  place  all  men  and 
women  at  arm's  length,  in  the  fear  that  one  of  them 
will  be  treacherous  to  me,  I  place  myself  beyond  the 
desert  of  good  treatment  at  their  hands — beyond  the 
reach  of  their  sympathies  and  their  good-will — in  short, 
I  insult  them,  and  voluntarily  institute  an  antagonism 
which  naturally  breeds  mischief  in  them  toward  me. 

So  I  advocate  the  policy  of  universal  faith,  as  an 
essential  condition  of  universal  faithfulness — of  univer- 
sal trust  as  a  pre-requisite  for  universal  trustworthiness. 
The  world  does  not  half  comprehend  the  principle  of 
overcoming  evil  with  good,  but  clings  to  the  infernal 
policy  of  overcoming  evil  with  evil.  I  know  of  no 
power  in  the  world  but  good,  with  which  to  overcome 
evil ;  and  when  I  see  on  every  side  exhibitions  of  a 
Jack  of  personal  honor,  I  know  that  I  can  foster  the 
honor  that  remains  in  no  way  except  by  recognizing  it 
and  calling  it  into  development  by  direct  practical  ap- 
peal, One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  suggestive  pas- 
sages in  the  Bible,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  this  : — "  If  we 
love  not  our  brother  whom  we  have  seen,  how  can  we 


Truft,  and  what  comes  of  it.  65 

love  God,  whom  we  have  not  seen  ?  "  Many  will  fail 
to  see  how  such  a  conclusion  naturally  follows  from 
such  premises ;  but  a  little  consideration  will  show  that 
by  the  amount  in  which  godlike  elements  etter  into 
humanity,  do  human  elements  enter  into  divinity ;  and 
that  if  we  fail  to  recognize  and  love  these  elements  as 
they  are  exhibited  to  us  in  human  life,  we  shall  neces- 
sarily fail  to  recognize  and  love  the  same  elements  in  a 
Being  removed  beyond  our  vision,  and,  save  as  we  see 
Him  in  humanity,  beyond  our  comprehension.  Now 
this  thing  is  just  as  true  of  trust  as  it  is  of  love.  If  we 
fail  to  trust  that  which  is  good  in  our  brother,  whom 
we  have  seen,  how  can  we  trust  the  same  qualities  in  a 
Being  whom  we  have  not  seen,  and  of  whom  we  know 
nothing  definitely,  save  as  He  has  exhibited  Himself  to 
us  in  human  life  ?  I  know  of  nothing  that  antagonizes 
more  directly  with  trust  in  the  divine  Being  than  the 
attitude  and  habit  of  distrust  which  wre  maintain 
towards  our  fellows.  I  believe  that  history  and  obser- 
vation will  prove  the  entire  soundness  of  this  principle, 
and  will  show  that  every  soul  that  sits  apart  from  its 
brotherhood,  in  settled  distrust,  is  devoid  of  faith  and 
trust  in  the  Being  from  whom  it  sprang.  I  believe  that 
God  has  laid  the  way  to  trust  in  Himself  through  hu- 
manity, and  that  those  who  refuse  to  walk  in  it  will 
fail  to  find  a  short  cut  to  Him. 

Trust  in  man,  then,  is  not  only  the  true  policy  for 


66  Gold-Foil. 

the  development  of  trustworthiness  in  man,  but  it  is 
the  legitimate  path  over  which  we  must  walk  to  the  at- 
tainment of  a  secure  and  happy  piety.  Let  us  then 
throw  the  door  of  our  hearts  wide  open.  Let  us  give 
our  hand  to  our  brother  in  honest  trust.  One  may 
possibly  abuse  our  trust ;  but  ninety-nine  in  one  hundred 
will  not ;  and  we  cannot  afford  to  sacrifice  so  great  a 
good  for  ourselves,  and  the  great  mass  of  men,  to  save 
our  confidence  from  a  single  betrayal.  We  do  not  re- 
fuse our  dirty  pence  to  a  beggar  who  appears  to  be  in 
need,  because  he  may  abuse  the  gift ;  but  we  say  that 
it  is  better  that  ten  betray  our  trust  than  that  one  inno- 
cent man  should  suffer  want.  When  the  universal 
heart  longs  for  trust,  delights  in  trust,  is  made  better 
by  trust,  and  needs  trust,  we  should  give  so  cheap  a 
thing  freely.  Especially  should  we  do  it  when  we  can 
legitimately  apply  those  precious  words  to  the  gift — 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  the  least  of  these,  ye  did 
it  unto  me." 


VI. 

THE  IDEAL  CHRIST. 
"  Like  master,  like  man." 

rEALS  are  the  world's  masters.  That  self  which 
thinks,  and  judges,  and  knows,  is  always  in  ad- 
vance of  that  other  self  which  wills,  and  acts,  and  lives ; 
and  all  the  spare  capital  of  the  soul — all  that  is  not  ap- 
propriated to  the  daily  uses  and  experiences  of  its  life — 
is  invested  in  ideals — projected  into  forms  where  it  may 
be  kept,  contemplated,  and  worshipped,  as  the  insti- 
tuted sources  of  its  inspiration.  That  which  is  godlike 
in  men  goes  ahead  of  them  into  some  form  of  their  own 
choosing,  to  beckon  them  toward  perfection  and  to  lead 
them  toward  God.  Wherever  our  affections  cluster, 
there  springs  up  an  ideal  character.  Our  ideal  may  not 
be  up  to  the  character  which  serves  as  its  nucleus,  nor 
identical  with  it  in  any  way ;  but,  wherever  God  sees 


68  Gold-Foil. 

our  love  concentrating,  He  plants  himself  in  the  form 
of  our  noblest  conceptions  of  honor,  purity,  and  good- 
ness, that  we  may  be  attracted  towards  Him.  "We  fol- 
low the  lines  of  the  flight  of  our  conceptions  as  the  bee- 
hunters  follow  the  flight  of  bees,  for  a  little  distance, 
and  then  we  pause  and  let  them  feed  again  at  our 
hearts,  and  follow  their  flight  again,  and  repeat  the 
process  till,  deep  in  the  heart  of  the  tree  of  life,  we 
discover  the  store-house  of  the  Divine  Sweetness.  God 
uses  the  ideals  that  we  build  as  the  media  through 
which  He  inspires  us.  He  employs  them  as  agents  by 
which  to  mould  our  character,  so  that  if  we  could  know 
the  precise  form  of  a  man's  ideals,  we  could  know  the 
influences  at  work  upon  him  for  his  elevation  and  puri- 
fication. 

To  illustrate  the  fact  that  our  ideals  are  framed  upon 
the  objects  of  our  affections,  or  the  subjects  of  our  no- 
bler sentiments,  and  that  all  their  inspiring  influences 
come  to  us  on  the  lines  of  these  affections  and  senti- 
ments, let  me  suppose  an  instance  of  the  passion  of 
love  between  the  sexes.  A  man  makes  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  woman  who  inspires  him  with  love.  His  rea- 
son, and  all  his  previous  knowledge  of  women,  tell  him 
that  she  is  imperfect.  His  friends  may  tell  him  that 
she  has  a  bad  temper,  that  she  is  weak,  that  she  is  vain. 
But  his  love  is  fixed,  and  is  as  strong  as  a  passion  can 
be  that  lives  in  his  nature ;  and  his  imagination  springs 


The  Ideal  Chrift.  69 

to  clothe  her  with  all  human  perfections.  Her  move- 
ments are  poetry,  her  eye  is  heaven,  her  voice  is  music, 
and  her  presence  that  of  an  angel.  To  him  she  is  a  pure, 
exalted,  and  beautiful  being,  and  he  worships  the  quali 
ties  with  which  he  invests  her.  Now  it  is  very  evident 
that  he  does  not  love  the  woman  herself,  but  his  ideal — 
the  creation  of  his  own  mind — the  embodiment  of  his 
highest  ideas  of  womanly  loveliness. 

Mark  how  this  ideal  becomes  an  active  power  upon 
him — how  it  works  a  miracle  upon  him.  Impure 
thoughts  are  banished  from  his  mind,  all  inferior  and 
unworthy  aims  are  forsaken,  he  withdraws  himself  from 
degrading  associations,  and  becomes  ennobled  and  puri- 
fied. This  character,  made  by  himself,  transforms  him. 
He  has  made,  for  the  time,  a  divinity ;  and  this  divinity 
becomes  his  leader,  strengthener,  purifier,  and  inspirer. 
The  God  within  us  seeks  for  incarnation  no  less  than 
the  God  without  us ;  and  the  philosophical  basis  of  the 
influence  upon  men  of  the  incarnation  of  God's  ideal  is 
identical  with  that  of  the  influence  of  their  own  in- 
carnated ideals. 

From  this  illustration  I  proceed  to  the  proposition 
that  it  does  not  matter  what  legitimate  passion  or  senti- 
ment may  be  called  out  with  relation  to  an  object,  the 
result  will  always  be  the  same  in  kind,  if  not  in  degree. 
We  may  admire,  revere,  esteem,  love,  and  in  many 
ways  enjoy,  through  the  exhibition  to  us  of  an  infinite 


70  Gold-Foil. 

variety  of  characteristics;  and  our  admiration,  rev- 
erence, esteem,  love,  and  enjoyment,  become  the  basis 
of  the  structure  of  ideals  which  shape  the  model  of  our 
own  character,  and  inspire  the  life  which  it  evolves. 
Idolatry  is  but  the  enthronement  of  the  ideals  of  men 
who  are  ignorant  of  the  true  God.  These  ideals  are 
formed  of  the  highest  qualities  and  conceptions  of  those 
who  make  them.  They  may  be  very  low,  but  they 
shape  the  life  of  the  people  that  produce  them.  Mari 
olatry  is  the  worship  of  a  very  pure  ideal,  and  the 
tributes  offered  to  the  multiplied  saints  of  the  Roman 
calendar  are  all  paid  to  the  incarnations  of  the  noblest 
conceptions  of  their  devotees.  The  marvellous  gift  of 
song  possessed  by  Jenny  Lind  makes  her  very  admira- 
ble to  us ;  so  we  clothe  her  with  the  loveliest  attributes, 
and  make  her  a  goddess.  The  real  power  of  Washing- 
ton upon  the  American  mind  is  exerted,  not  by  his  sim- 
ple self,  but  by  his  character,  modified,  magnified,  ex- 
alted, harmonized,  and  enthroned  by  that  mind,  as  the 
impersonation  of  its  highest  conception  of  patriotism. 
In  the  American  imagination,  he  is  a  demi-god — a  grand 
Colossus — before  whose  august  shade  we  stand  as  pig- 
mies. "  All  history  is  a  lie,"  simply  because  no  man 
can  write  it  without  being  attracted  to  characters  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  ideals  of  them,  and  thus  to  throw 
all  the  facts  connected  with  them  out  of  their  legiti- 
mate relations. 


The  Ideal  Chrift.  71 

I  repeat  the  statement,  that  ideals  are  the  world's 
masters.  They  order  our  life,  they  dictate  the  form  of 
our  history,  they  are  the  very  essence  of  poetry,  and 
the  staple  of  all  worthy  fiction.  Our  affections  choose 
an  object,  and  straightway  our  imaginations  lift  it  into 
apotheosis.  We  garner  in  it  that  which  is  best  in  our 
thought,  and  it  becomes  a  power  upon  us  for  the  eleva- 
tion of  our  life. 

I  have  attempted  thus  far  only  to  reveal  and  illus- 
trate one  of  the  most  beautiful  laws  of  mental  action 
and  re-action  with  which  I  am  acquainted ;  and  if  my 
reader  is  as  much  interested  in  it  as  I  am,  he  will  follow 
me  into  a  consideration  of  its  bearings  upon  Chris- 
tianity. I  do  not  moot  the  question  of  the  nature  of 
the  founder  of  Christianity, — that  is,  I  do  not  say  that 
Christ  was  God,  or  was  not  God, — but  I  say,  what  few 
will  dispute,  that  he  was  God's  incarnated  ideal  of  a 
roan — that  Christ  was  all  of  God  and  his  attributes 
that  could  be  put  into  a  man.  It  follows,  that  unless  we 
can  fully  comprehend  God's  ideal,  the  Christ  that  we 
hoi  I  is  our  own  ideal ;  and  his  power  upon  us  is  meas- 
ured and  described  by  the  character  of  our  ideal. 
"  What  think  ye  of  Christ  ?  "  The  answer  to  this  great 
question,  addressed  to  a  soul  or  a  sect,  defines  the  type 
of  Christianity  possessed  by  such  a  soul  or  sect.  He  is 
what  He  is,  a  complete  and  definite  character,  but  what 
we  think  of  Him — our  ideal  of  Him— determines  the 


72  Gold-Foil. 

exact  measure  and  kind  of  power  with  which  He  in- 
spires us,  and  the  quality  and  extent  of  the  develop- 
ment He  works  in  us. 

It  does  not  matter  to  this  discussion  whether  Christ 
be  what  we  believe  Him  to  be,  or  a  myth.  If  we  ad- 
mit that  He  is  the  first  fact  in  the  Christian  system  of 
religion,  and  the  primary  source  of  all  inspiration  to 
Christian  movement  and  progress,  it  will  follow  that 
every  soul  and  every  sect  must  possess  the  highest  pos- 
sible idea  of  Christ  before  it  can  reach  its  highest  point 
of  development  and  its  highest  style  of  Christian  life. 
According  to  our  ideal  of  Christ — in  the  measure  by 
which  we  invest  Him  with  great  attributes  and  authori- 
ty— does  He  become  to  us  an  inspiring  force.  A  per- 
son who  thinks  that  Christ  was  only  a  good  man,  with 
frailties  like  other  men, — an  individual  who  li ved  a  very 
pure  life — a  reformer — can  possess  only  a  very  shallow 
Christian  piety,  because  he  can  find  in  his  ideal  of  Christ 
no  inspiration  to  a  piety  more  profound.  A  man  who 
thinks  the  grand  characteristics  of  Christ  were  meek- 
ness, self-denial,  and  patience  under  injury,  without  ap- 
prehending the  other  side  of  His  character,  will  be  a 
mean  and  abject  man.  A  man  who  thinks  that  there 
was  nothing  in  Christ  but  love — that  contempt  of  all 
meanness,  supreme  reverence  for  justice,  displeasure 
with  all  sin,  and  hatred  of  all  cruelty  and  oppression, 
had  no  place  in  Him,  will  expend  his  sympathy  on  pris- 


The  Ideal  Chrift.  73 


oners,  and  build  palaces  for  convicts,  and  circulate  pe- 
titions for  the  abrogation  of  death  penalties. 

If  the  doctrine  I  have  advanced  be  sound,  it  is  not 
necessary  to  refer  to  history  to  prove  that  the  progress 
of  Christianity  has  depended  in  all  the  past,  (nor  is  the 
gift  of  prophecy  requisite  to  the  assertion  that  it  will 
depend  in  all  the  future,)  upon  the  prevalent  ideal  of 
Christ.  The  stream  cannot  rise  higher  than  its  foun- 
tain. Christ,  as  the  inspirer  of  Christian  life,  is  to  the 
Christian  world  what  that  world  makes  Him  to  be.  He 
must  keep  forever  in  advance  of  us,  or  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  an  infinite  Christian  progression.  If  there 
shall  ever  arrive  a  point  in  the  history  of  any  soul 
when  its  conception  of  Christ  will  cease  to  be  higher 
than  its  own  life,  then  that  soul  will  have  exhausted 
Christianity,  and  must  stand  still.  If  the  history  and 
being  of  Christ,  as  delineated  by  the  Evangelists,  forbid 
the  world  to  form  of  Him  the  highest  ideal  which  it  is 
possible  for  it  to  conceive  (which,  of  course,  I  do  not 
believe),  then  those  delineations  must  ultimately,  by  a 
philosophical  necessity,  become  an  insurmountable  ob- 
stacle to  the  development  of  the  highest  style  of  Chris- 
tianity of  which  the  world  is  capable.  I  believe  there 
is  no  proposition  in  moral  philosophy  more  clearly  de- 
monstrable than  this,  and  I  hold  myself  in  no  way  re- 
sponsible for  the  conclusions  to  which  it  leads. 

I  believe  in  the  proverb  that  any  religion  is  better 
4 


74  Gold-Foil. 

than  no  religion,  because  every  man's  conception  of 
goodness  and  duty  is  an  advance  of  his  character ;  and 
when  this  conception  is  imbodied  in  an  object  of  wor- 
ship, it  becomes  an  elevating  power  upon  his  life  that 
makes  him  capable  of  a  certain  degree  of  civilization. 
All  the  ideals  of  all  ages  have  been  developed  in  the 
direction  of  the  perfect  man — toward  God's  ideal. 
The  shadowy  gods  that  were  grouped  about  Olympus 
were  voiceless  echoes  of  poor  hearts  crying  after  this 
perfect  man.  Hugh  Miller,  the  inspired  apostle  of  Sci- 
ence, found  the  rudiments  of  Christ  in  the  rocks,  and 
may  we  not  find  them  in  the  souls  of  men  ?  He  found 
Jesus  Christ  in  every  lamina  of  the  earth's  crust ;  and 
as,  with  faith  in  his  heart  and  the  iron  in  his  hand,  he 
toiled  among  the  old  red  sandstone,  he  saw  the  fossil 
flora  of  his  own  Scotch  hills  tipped  with  tongues  of 
flame  and  the  fauna  rigid  with  the  stress  of  prophecy. 
It  was  as  if  the  blood  of  Calvary  had  stained  and  in- 
formed with  meaning  the  insensate  mass  in  which  he 
wrought ;  or  as  if  he  were,  with  a  divine  instinct,  hew- 
ing away  the  rock  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre 
where  the  ages  had  laid  his  Lord.  With  a  vision  that 
was  too  wonderful  and  too  glorious  for  the  protracted 
entertainment  of  his  mighty  brain,  he  saw  the  varied 
forms  of  life  climbing  through  the  rugged  centuries, 
and  leaping  from  creation  to  creation,  until  they  took 
resolution  in  the  union  of  matter  and  spirit  in  man. 


The  Ideal  Chrift.  75 

But  science  with  a  pining  heart  behind  it  was  not  satis- 
fied even  then.  Not  until  the  complex  creature  man 
<vas  united  with  God  was  the  chain  complete.  Then, 
with  the  last  link  fastened  to  The  Throne,  the  grand 
riddle  of  "  the  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world  "  swung  clear  in  the  sight  of  angels  and  of  men. 
So,  to  the  delver  in  the  stratified  history  of  the  race, 
do  the  dead  ideals  point  toward  and  prophesy  the  ad- 
vent and  the  character  of  the  divine  man. 

Any  religion  is  better  than  no  religion  because  there 
exists  in  the  ideal  which  inspires  it  a  rudiment  of  Christ, 
and  there  is  nothing  in  any  religion  that  tends  in  any 
direct  and  legitimate  way  to  the  good  of  the  soul  which 
entertains  it  that  is  not  a  fraction  or  fragment  of  Chris- 
tianity. Now  it  is  manifest  that  every  soul  which  gives 
in  its  allegiance  to  a  fragmentary  ideal  of  Christ  stands 
really,  for  the  time,  upon  the  plane  of  paganism.  In 
the  degree  in  which  Plato's  ideal  man,  or  ideal  god, 
was  greater  than  any  given  Christian's  ideal  Christ, 
was  his  paganism  better  than  that  Christian's  Christi- 
anity— better  in  its  essence,  and  better  in  its  practical 
power  upon  life.  The  moment  that  a  mind  definitely 
circumscribes,  measures,  weighs,  and  comprehends  its 
Christ,  it  limits  its  own  Christian  development,  by  fix- 
ing a  point  beyond  which  no  Christian  inspiration  will 
come  to  it.  The  moment  we  cease  to  grow  "  in  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,"  because  there  is  no  more 


76  Gold-Foil. 

to  know  of  him,  God's  ideal  will  become  inferior  to  our 
ideal,  for  reaching  it  we  shall  immediately  conceive  an 
ideal  beyond  it,  in  accordance  with  that  law  of  progress 
which  always  keeps  our  conceptions  of  goodness  and 
greatness  in  advance  of  our  life.  So  I  ask  the  ques- 
tion :  will  God's  Christ  answer  the  purpose  of  eternal 
progress,  or  will  the  time  come  when  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  make  a  Christ  for  ourselves  ?  I  let  every 
man  answer  this  question  in  his  own  way. 

This  leads  me  to  a  thought  which  I  consider  of  the 
highest  practical  importance  to  the  Christian  world, 
and  which  I  should  be  glad  to  develop  more  fully  than 
my  space  will  allow.  If  the  view  which  I  have  pre- 
sented of  the  law  of  progress  in  Christian  life  be  cor- 
rect, then  theology  is  a  progressive  science,  and  there 
is,  and  there  can  be,  no  standard  of  belief  and  faith 
good  for  all  ages.  As  our  ideal  of  Christ  grows 
toward,  or  into,  God's  ideal,  will  that  ideal  change  its 
relation  to  all  the  great  facts  of  theology,  as  they  are 
now  comprehended  by  theologians.  The  theological 
systems  of  men  and  schools  of  men  are  determined 
Always  by  the  character  of  their  ideal  of  Christ,  the 
central  fact  of  the  Christian  system.  All  the  other 
facts  arrange  themselves  around  this  ideal,  and  in  har- 
mony with  it.  Thus,  as  our  ideal  advances,  gathering 
new  glory  and  greatness  and  goodness,  will  certain 
doctrines  which  we  now  consider  essential  recede  into 


The  Ideal- Chrifl  77 

insignificance,  and  others  now  scarcely  insisted  upon 
spring  into  prominence,  and  others  still,  now  unknown, 
will  be  developed.  Preachers  and  professors,  churches 
and  synods,  may  protest  against  innovations,  but  they 
must  come  by  necessity,  if  there  be  any  genuine  Chris- 
tian progress.  A  prescriptive  standard  of  faith  in 
Christianity — a  system  of  everlasting  progress — must 
forever  remain  an  officious  and  sacrilegious  intermed- 
dling with  the  grand  fundamental  law  of  Christianity. 

There  is  a  time  coming  when  all  the  sects  which 
now  divide  Christendom  will  be  melted  into  one. 
Nothing  but  the  blotting  out  of  Christianity  can  hinder 
it.  My  Presbyterian  friend  has  his  fragmentary  ideal 
of  Christ,  my  Episcopal  friend  another,  my  Roman 
Catholic  friend  another,  and  so  on,  through  Baptists, 
Methodists,  Universalists,  and  all  the  rest ;  but  as  the 
Christian  world's  ideal  of  Christ  advances,  and  he  is 
apprehended  in  something  of  the  fulness  of  his  being 
and  character,  will  the  world's  theologies  approach 
each  other.  They  must  do  so,  and  they  are  doing  so 
to-day.  The  best  evidence  in  the  world  that  Christian- 
ity is  advancing  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  walls  be- 
tween the  sects  are  growing  weaker,  or  falling  in  ruins. 
When  they  all  come  up  to  the  point  of  any  thing  like 
a  just  idea  of  the  sun  in  the  centre  of  their  systems, 
they  will  find  that  there  is  no  difference  between  them. 
Therefore,  let  our  ideal  be  kept  well  in  advance,  and 


78  Gold-Foil. 

always  in  advance  ;  and  let  that  ideal  be  the  law  of  a 
man's  theology.  If  my  neighbor's  ideal  of  Christ  be 
better  than  mine,  then,  not  only  his  life,  but  his  system, 
of  theology,  will  be  better  than  mine ;  and  God  forbid 
that  I  should  curb  him,  or  try  to  impose  upon  him  my 
ideal  and  my  theology.  Ah,  these  Procrustean  pre- 
scripts of  belief — what  unspeakably  useless  tilings  are 
they! 


VII. 

PROVIDENCE. 

"  Man  proposes  and  God  disposes." 

"  Saint  cannot,  If  God  will  not" 

"Nothing  is  lost  on  a  journey  by  stopping  to  pray  or  to  feed  your  horse." 

"  God  puts  a  good  root  in  the  little  pig's  way." 

"  God  gives  every  bird  its  food,  but  does  not  throw  it  into  the  nest." 

"  He  that  is  at  sea  has  not  the  wind  In  his  hands." 

THE  progress  of  modern  science,  the  opulence  of 
modern  invention,  and  the  splendor  of  modem 
achievement  in  the  arts,  are  themes  of  ceaseless  glory- 
ing and  gratulation.  I  rejoice  with  the  gladdest,  and 
glory  with  the  proudest ;  yet  I  feel  that  the  world 
around  me  and  the  world  within  me  have  lost  some- 
thing, even  more  precious  than  they  have  gained — not 
irrecoverably,  but,  for  the  time,  practically.  The  more 
the  knowledge  of  material  things  has  crowded  in  upon 
the  apprehension  of  the  world — the  more  the  world 
has  learned  of  the  laws  of  matter,  and  the  more  stu- 


80  Gold-Foil. 

pendous  the  results  it  has  achieved  by  laying  those 
laws  under  tribute — the  more  from  a  large  class  of 
minds  has  faith  retired,  and  Providence  become  a 
meaningless  name.  We  drive  toward  materialism. 
We  have  become  practical  believers  in  necessity. 
Every  thing  is  controlled  by  law.  The  machine  has 
been  wound  up,  the  being  who  made  and  set  it  in  op- 
eration has  retired,  and  ah"  that  we  can  do  is  to  fall 
into  our  place,  and  be  borne  on,  careful  only  that  no 
cog-wheel  catch  our  fingers,  and  no  weight  descend 
upon  our  heads. 

It  is  not  only  the  irreligious  world  that  disbelieves 
in  Providence.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  there  are 
Christians  in  large  numbers  who  never  dream  of  re- 
ceiving blessings  in  answer  to  their  prayers — Chris- 
tians who  would  be  absolutely  startled  with  the 
thought  that  God  had  directly,  and  with  special  pur- 
pose, granted  one  of  their  petitions.  God  has  come  to 
be  "  counted  out  of  the  ring."  Practically,  we  believe 
that  He  never  interferes  with  the  operation  of  one  of 
His  own  laws — that  no  influence,  under  the  control  of 
His  will,  acting  from  daily  and  momently  arising  mo- 
tives, can,  or  does,  act  with  supreme  power  upon  the 
chain  of  cause  and  effect  established  at  the  creation  of 
the  universe.  Too  much,  even  in  the  Christian  imag- 
ination, God  is  a  prisoner,  shut  up  within  the  walls  of 
His  own  laws — a  Being  who  has  farmed  out  the  uni- 


Providence.  81 

verse  to  the  great  firm  of  Laws  and  Principles,  and  is 
quietly  waiting,  with  nothing  to  do,  and  no  power  to 
do  any  thing,  till  the  lease  expire.  The  man  who  de- 
clared that  there  was  no  use  in  praying  for  rain  so  long 
as  the  wind  was  in  the  north,  illustrates  the  essential 
position  of  every  nine  minds  in  ten  throughout  Chris- 
tendom. This,  I  know,  is  a  sweeping  statement,  and  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  be  convicted  of  its  falsehood. 
There  is,  doubtless,  a  strife  constantly  going  on  in  a 
great  multitude  of  minds  to  escape  from  the  clutch  of 
laws,  and  to  find  a  Father's  embrace,  yet  the  majority 
of  them  "  take  things  as  they  come,"  and,  at  most,  ex- 
pect God  to  do  only  those  things  for  them  which  are 
outside  the  strict  domain  of  natural  law.  Law  is  God, 
practically — Law,  a  thing  of  God,  an  institution  born 
of  Him,  is  put  in  His  place,  and  He  is  shut  out  behind 
it.  Thus  the  world  is  turned  into  a  great  mill,  estab- 
lished on  certain  principles  for  the  grinding  out  of 
certain  results ;  and  into  the  hopper  all  this  great  ag- 
gregate of  individuals  is  poured  like  grain  to  be  ground. 
I  will  not  say  that  the  absorption  of  the  modern 
mind  in  scientific  studies  and  the  production  of  great 
material  results  is  entirely  responsible  for  this  reduction 
of  the  universe  to  essential  orphanage,  but  its  tendency, 
joined  to  the  natural  gravitation  of  our  appetites  and 
passions,  has  had  the  decisive  power  to  sink  us  in  that 
direction.  To  reveal  this  tendency  to  those  in  whom  it 
4* 


82  Gold-Foil. 

unconsciously  exists,  and  to  counteract  it,  so  far  as  I 
have  any  power,  is  the  present  aim. 

God  is  either  supreme  or  subject.  If  subject,  then 
I  become  an  Atheist  at  once,  for  a  subject  God  is  no 
God.  If  He  has  passed  over  the  line  of  my  life  to  the 
control  of  a  law,  or  a  series  of  laws,  then,  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  He  is  dethroned.  If  any  law  of  the 
universe  stands  between  me  and  the  direct  ministry  of 
God  to  my  wants  and  my  worthy  wishes  and  aspira- 
tions, then  I  may  as  well  pray  to  my  next  door  neigh- 
bor as  to  Him.  Thus  Providence  is  to  me  a  question 
which  involves  the  existence  of  a  God.  If  law  is  a 
greater  and  a  more  powerful  thing  than  He  who  estab- 
lished it,  then,  to  me,  He  is  practically  of  no  account. 
I  live  and  move  and  have  my  being  in  law,  and  not  in 
Him.  I  sprang  from  law,  I  exist  in  law,  and  I  am  car- 
ried on  by  law  I  know  not  whither.  If  God  pity  me, 
He  cannot  help  me.  If  He  would  save  me,  He  cannot. 
Between  Him  and  me  His  law  places  an  impassable 
gulf,  across  which  we  may  stretch  our  helpless  hands 
toward  each  other  to  all  eternity  without  avail.  He  is 
a  prisoner,  and  I  am  a  prisoner  ;  and  I  may  legitimate- 
ly pity  His  weakness  as  much  as  he  pities  mine. 

Again,  God  is  either  benevolent  in  His  feelings  to- 
ward each  individual  child  in  His  universe,  or  He  is  ut- 
terly indifferent,  or  positively  malicious.  We  look  to 
Him  as  the  author  of  all  things — as  the  father  of  our 


Providence.  83 

spirits  and  the  maker  of  our  bodies,  no  more  than  as 
the  author  and  founder  of  all  law.  If  I  decide  in  my 
mind  that  He  has  voluntarily  placed  it  out  of  His  power 
to  help  me,  by  instituting  between  me  and  Him  a  law 
which  shuts  Him  from  direct  ministry  to  me,  I  decide, 
in  effect,  that  He  is  indifferent  to  me,  or  malicious  to- 
ward me.  When  I  decide  this,  I  dethrone  Him  just  as 
essentially  as  when  I  decide  that  He  is  subject  to  His 
own  law,  and  helpless  in  regard  to  its  operation ;  for  a 
God  who  is  either  indifferent  or  malicious  has  no  claim 
upon  my  fealty  or  my  affection.  A  God  who  does  not 
love  me  has  no  claim  upon  my  love.  A  God  who  vol- 
untarily puts  it  beyond  His  power  to  aid  me,  or  do  me 
good,  puts  it  equally  beyond  His  power  to  do  me  direct 
harm.  He  is,  therefore,  nothing  to  me. 

Thus,  if  there  be  not  a  God  of  Providence  who 
ministers  to  my  daily  individual  wants,  and  prescribes 
for  me  the  discipline  of  my  life — a  God  who  hears  me 
when  I  cry  to  Him,  and  holds  immediate  relations  with 
every  moment  of  my  life,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
there  is  no  God  at  all.  Ah !  but  there  is  a  God.  Few 
are  the  men  who  doubt  this,  and  they  are  not  those 
who  would  be  convinced  of  their  error  by  argument 
of  mine.  All  healthy  souls  recognize  the  existence  of 
this  Being,  and  recognize  among  His  attributes  utter 
supremacy  and  infinite  benevolence.  Now  the  point 
that  I  make  is  this :  that  the  moment  we  recognize  God 


84  Gold-Foil. 

as  supreme  in  power  and  infinitely  good  and  loving  to« 
ward  all  His  intelligent  creatures,  that  moment  we  ad- 
mit the  doctrine  of  universal  and  special  Providence. 
There  is  no  God,  and  there  can  be  none,  who  is  not  a 
God  of  Providence.  It  is  only  to  such  a  God  that  we 
can  pray.  It  is  only  such  a  God  that  can,  by  possibili- 
ty, call  out  our  affections,  or  hold  us  to  allegiance. 
Every  thing  that  passes  under  the  name  of  religion  be- 
comes a  mockery  and  a  delusion  the  moment  we  place 
Him  behind  laws  which,  like  prison-bars,  restrain  Hun 
from  all  participation  in  human  affairs. 

I  know  too  well  that  in  this  thing  I  am  not  setting 
up  and  endeavoring  to  bring  down  a  man  of  straw.  I 
know  many  men  who  are  professedly,  at  least,  men  of 
prayer,  yet  who  declare  in  terms  that  the  benefits  of 
prayer  are  only  to  be  looked  for  in  the  exercise  of 
prayer.  They  attempt  to  explain  the  matter  phil- 
osophically. There  is  something  in  the  humble  atti- 
tude of  the  soul  before  its  Maker,  incident  to  prayer — 
something  in  confession  and  the  exercise  of  penitence — 
something  in  abstraction  from  worldly  and  impure 
thoughts — which,  really,  has  the  power  to  do  great 
good,  and  in  which  reside  all  the  benefits  of  prayer. 
While  I  recognize  the  immediate  benefits  of  prayer  as 
a  mental  and  moral  exercise,  this  partial  and  unworthy 
view  of  it  is  to  me  utterly  contemptible.  A  man  on  liis 
knees  talking  to  God  as  if  He  could  help  him,  yet  be- 


Providence.  85 

lieving  that  He  will  not,  or  cannot,  and  praying  for 
blessings  which  he  has  no  reason  to  expect,  is  a  sight 
to  be  pitied  of  angels  and  of  men.  If  this  be  all  of 
prayer,  it  is  an  insult  to  a  man,  either  to  ask  or  com- 
mand him  to  pray.  Low  as  human  dignity  is,  it  would 
be  compromised,  and,  if  in  any  degree  sensitive,  offend- 
ed, by  being  forced  into  attitudes  and  language  which 
are  a  sham  and  a  lie,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  inci- 
dental results  of  good. 

No,  prayer  is  not  a  legitimate,  it  is  not  even  a  de- 
cent and  dignified,  exercise,  unless  offered  to  a  God  of 
Providence  who  knows  and  is  interested  in  all  our  af- 
fairs, is  able  to  interfere  with  them  and  change  their 
order  through  or  above  law,  and  is  willing  to  do  so,  ac- 
cording as  the  motives  in  which  our  petitions  are  based 
show  us  ready  for  the  reception  of  the  blessings  which 
we  seek,  and  He  in  infinite  paternal  benevolence  is 
ready  to  bestow.  Well,  we  are  commanded  to  pray 
throughout  the  Bible.  We  are  promised  answers  to 
prayer,  in  no  ambiguous  language,  throughout  the 
Bible.  We  are  taught  after  what  manner  to  pray,  by 
Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake — Humanity's  Great 
Teacher ;  and  to  the  truly  faithful  Christian  heart  this 
should  forever  settle  the  question  of  Providence. 

There  is  to  me  no  thought  more  precious  than  that 
my  Maker  is  my  constant  minister,  direct  and  imme- 
diate. There  is  no  thought  that  would  sooner  drive 


86  Gold-Foil. 

me  mad  than  that  I  am  in  the  iron  grasp  of  laws  which 
will  work  out  their  results  within  me  and  around  me 
though  they  tear  me  in  pieces,  while  the  Maker 
of  those  laws  and  of  me  cannot  help  me,  though  I  cry 
to  Him  out  of  the  depths  of  my  helplessness  and  dis- 
tress. A  natural  law  is  only  one  of  the  regular  rules  by 
which,  for  good  purposes,  God  works.  It  exists  as  a 
rule  only  by  His  constant  will;  and,  in  my  opinion, 
drawn  from  every  available  analogy,  He  has  a  myriad 
irregular  ways  of  reaching  an  end  to  one  which  is  reg- 
ular— ways  constantly  starting  out  from  new  impulses 
born  of  new  motives  within  Him.  The  regular  way  of 
reaching  New  York  or  Washington  is  by  a  certain  rail- 
road, but  I  can  reach  either  city  by  countless  irregular 
ways,  as  circumstances  or  motives  may  dictate  and 
direct.  I  may  reach  either  city  by  other  railroads  less 
direct,  yet  having  the  same  termination,  as  my  will  may 
decide ;  and  to  confine  the  supreme  will  of  the  universe 
to  such  regular  channels  of  action  as  we  happen  to  be 
acquainted  with,  is  to  assume  that  that  will  is  weaker 
than  our  own. 

I  assume,  that  without  a  belief  in  a  general  and 
special  Providence,  no  man  who  thinks  at  all  upon  the 
subject  can  be  truly  happy.  We  are  all  breakers  of 
law — we  are  a  race  of  law-breakers.  The  moment  the 
mind  swings  loose  from  a  belief  in  Providence,  it 
plunges  helpless  and  overwhelmed  into  a  wild  waste  of 


Providence.  87 

penalties,  from  which  there  is  and  can  be  no  extrication 
while  existence  endures.  What  has  the  history  of  the 
race  been  but  that  of  law-breaking  ?  Yet  in  spite  of 
this — in  spite  of  a  violation  which  has  become  the 
habit  of  the  world — it  lives,  and,  thank  God!  pro- 
gresses toward  goodness.  If  law  had  been  left  alone 
of  God's  Providence  to  work  out  its  own  blind  ends, 
there  would  not  be  a  breathing  man  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth  to-day.  It  is  for  the  reason  that  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being  in  God,  and  not  in  law,  that 
there  rises  to  Heaven  the  smoke  of  a  single  city,  or 
waves  upon  the  hillside  the  burden  of  a  single  culti- 
vated harvest. 

Let  no  man  be  deceived  by  that  subtlest  of  all  in- 
fidelities which  dethrones  a  God  of  Providence.  The 
very  hairs  of  our  heads  are  numbered  by  Him,  and  not 
even  he  life  of  a  sparrow  that  He  has  made  is  extin- 
guishc*.  without  His  notice.  There  is  not  an  infant's 
wail,  a  sr'h  of  anguish,  a  groan  of  pain,  or  a  word  of 
prayer,  breathed  in  the  humblest  abode,  that  He  does 
not  hear.  Over  all  our  struggles  and  toils  He  stoops 
with  a  loving  eye,  and  with  a  heart  anxious  that  the 
discipline  He  has  established  for  us  may  do  us  good. 
He  knows  all  our  doubts  and  fears  ;  He  rejoices  in  all 
our  worthy  hopes  and  joys.  When  we  kneel  He  sees 
us ;  when  we  pray  He  hears.  His  presence  envelopes 
us,  His  knowledge  comprehends  us,  His  power  upholds 


88  Gold-Foil. 

us.  All  law  and  all  being  are  alike  dependent,  moment 
by  moment,  upon  Him  for  existence.  The  ultimate 
root  of  every  flower  that  bends  beneath  its  weight  of 
dew  is  planted  in  His  will.  It  is  His  breath  that 
breaks  the  bosom  of  the  sea  into  billows ;  it  is  His  smile 
that  soothes  it  into  rest.  The  blue  sky  that  bends  over 
us  is  but  the  visible  image  of  His  loving  bosom,  holding 
myriad  worlds  in  the  infinite  depths  of  its  tenderness. 
Ah,  let  it  never  be  hidden  to  the  eye  of  faith  by  the 
showers  of  blessings  which  come  from  it,  borne  on  the 
wings  of  natural  law ! 

I  know  of  no  skepticism  more  fatal  to  the  develop- 
ment of  religion  in  the  heart  than  that  which  dethrones 
a  God  of  Providence.  In  vain  shall  we  look  for  a  true 
piety  among  those  who,  through  absorption  in  scientific 
pursuits,  or  devotion  to  the  details  of  natural  law  in 
mechanical  and  similar  callings,  are  brought  to  the 
deification  of  law.  Law  has  no  love,  no  pity,  no 
mercy,  no  patience.  Law  has  nothing  in  it  to  touch 
our  sympathies,  or  call  out  our  affections.  If  it  have 
power  in  an  indirect  way  to  rouse  within  us  a  sense  of 
responsibility  for  our  conduct,  it  is  only  to  curse  us 
with  the  thought  that  it  has  no  power  to  forgive.  The 
idea  that  man  can  be  truly  religious,  with  a  God  vol- 
untarily bereft  of  power  for  good  or  evil,  is  simply  ab- 
surd. We  never  find,  and  we  never  can  find,  true 
piety  in  a  heart  that  does  not  so  thoroughly  believe  in 


Providence.  89 

a  God  of  Providence  that  it  can  pray  with  an  honest 
faith  that  God  can  grant  its  petition. 

It  is  well  that  we  have  law,  that  we  understand  it, 
and  that  we  obey  it.  Law  is  essential  to  our  highest 
liberty.  It  defines  the  bounds  within  which  we  may 
safely  be  allowed  to  exercise  our  wills,  and  work  out 
our  destiny.  It  draws  the  lines  along  which  we  may 
legitimately  labor  in  the  development  of  our  powers. 
It  reveals  the  relations  which  exist  between  material 
things  and  ourselves.  Law  is  never  to  be  ignored  as 
an  important  part  of  the  machinery  by  which  its  founder 
administers  the  world's  great  affairs,  but  we  are  never 
to  shut  God  out  of  it,  nor  to  shut  him  behind  it.  It  is 
intended  that  we  shall  accomplish  all  through  law  that 
we  can  accomplish  for  ourselves — that  we  shall  earn  by 
the  use  of  law  all  that  we  can  earn  for  physical  suste- 
nance, and  our  spiritual  satisfaction.  God  gives  every 
bird  its  food,  but  does  not  throw  it  into  the  nest.  He 
does  not  unearth  the  good  which  the  earth  contains, 
but  He  puts  it  in  our  way,  and  gives  us  the  means  of 
getting  it  ourselves. 

The  time  has  already  come  to  multitudes  of  men 
when  the  providence  which  orders  their  lives  is  a  de- 
monstrated reality.  There  is  no  tractable  soul  that 
lias,  by  yielding  to  the  indications  of  the  supreme  will, 
and  obeying  law,  worked  its  way  into  the  light,  that 
docs  not  recognize  a  wisdom  and  purpose  in  its  life 


90  Gold-Foil. 

and  history  superior  to,  and  independent  of,  itself,  and 
the  laws  within  and  around  it.  In  darkness  or  light 
this  demonstration  will  ultimately  come  to  all.  It  shall 
be  seen  by  every  soul  that  the  discipline  of  its  life  was 
chqsen  in  infinite  wisdom  as  that  which  was  best  calcu- 
lated to  enlarge  and  ennoble  it,  whether  it  produce  the 
desired  result  or  not.  To  all  souls  emancipated  from 
the  clutches  of  necessity,  and  clinging  with  love  and 
faith  to  the  hand  of  the  Great  Dispenser,  life  becomes 
a  great  and  glorious  thing.  They  recognize  every  af- 
fliction, every  reverse,  every  pain,  as  portions  or  fea- 
tures ot  an  infinitely  beneficent  ministry.  Every  joy 
that  visits  them,  every  hope  that  cheers  them,  every 
good  that  they  receive,  is  a  renewed  testimony  of  the 
love  in  which  they  are  held  by  Him  who  has  ordered 
their  life  in  the  past,  and  who  is  pledged  by  all  His 
previous  ministry  to  lead  it  to  its  divinest  issues.  It  is 
to  this  height  of  human  happiness  that  I  would  lead  the 
blind,  mistaken,  discontented  spirits  that  grope  among 
laws  as  blind  as  themselves.  Poor  orphans  !  Happy 
for  you  is  it  that  your  belief,  or  lack  of  belief,  does  not 
,hut  out  Providence  from  you,  nor  hinder  its  constant 
efforts  to  bring  you  to  its  recognition  ! 


ejs 


vin. 

DOES  SENSUALITY  PAY? 

u  Cent  per  cent  do  we  pay  for  every  vicious  indulgence." 
"  If  you  pursue  good  with  labor,  the  labor  passes  away,  but  the  good  re- 
mains; if  you  pursue  evil  with  pleasure,  the  pleasure  passes  away  but  the  evil 
remains." 

"  Virtue  and  happiness  are  mother  and  daughter." 

LIFE  would  appear  to  be  a  very  dangerous  sea, 
judging  by  the  number  of  wrecks  that  strew  its 
shores — more  remarkably  unsafe,  perhaps,  for  pleasure 
yachts  and  such  other  fancy  craft  as  may  fail  to  main- 
tain the  proper  relations  between  canvas  and  ballast. 
I  know  of  no  object  of  contemplation  more  sad  than  a 
human  wreck.  I  can  look  iipon  death  when  it  brings 
release  to  a  happy  soul,  or  even  to  a  miserable  body, 
with  an  emotion  akin  to  satisfaction  ;  I  can  contemplate 
a  great  calamity,  when  it  involves  no  stain  of  honor 
and  no  loss  of  character,  with  equanimity — content  that 
the  hand  of  Providence  is  in  it,  and  that  good  must 


92  Gold-Foil. 

consequently  come  out  of  it ;  I  can  read  of  great  con- 
flicts upon  the  battle-field,  where  the  atmosphere  is 
burdened  by  expiring  life,  and  blood  flows  in  rivers, 
and  rise  from  the  picture  inspired  by  its  heroisms  ;  but 
I  cannot  look  upon  a  human  wreck,  a  lost  life,  a  ruined 
man  or  woman,  without  being  sick  with  horror,  or  sad- 
dened into  an  unspeakable  pity.  To  think  of  youth's 
bright  hopes  and  precious  innocence — of  love  of  truth 
and  purity — of  honor,  and  manhood,  and  womanhood — 
of  genius  and  talent — of  all  goodly  gifts  of  person  and 
graces  of  mind — of  ah1  sweet  affections  and  aspirations 
gone  down — down  into  the  abyss  of  perdition,  blotted 
out  or  spoiled — ah,  this  is,  by  awful  eminence,  the  hor- 
ror of  the  world ! 

Yet  visions  of  rained  men  and  women  are  not  un- 
common. We  walk  out  into  the  world  on  some  pleas- 
ant day,  every  thing  fair  and  fresh  around  us,  and, 
with  health  in  our  blood  and  peace  in  our  hearts,  Ave 
think  how  good  and  beautiful  a  thing  life  is ;  yet  we 
rarely  walk  far  without  meeting  some  one  to  whom  all 
its  goodness  and  beauty  are  lost.  We  meet  some 
wretch  whose  haggard  face  and  feeble  limbs  and  fetid 
breath  betray  the  victim  of  debauchery,  dying  by  his 
last  foul  disease.  Behind  him  walks  the  bloated  form 
of  one  who  has  surrendered  his  will  to  his  appetite. 
His  bloodshot,  meaningless  eyes,  and  heavy,  staggering 
feet,  give  index  to  the  curse  which  is  upon  him.  We 


Does  Senfuality  Pay  ?  93 

turn  oui'  eyes  away  from  him  with  a  shudder,  but  only 
to  be  greeted  by  a  sight  that  makes  us  still  more  sad. 
We  meet  a  form  of  beauty — a  woman — but  the  wanton 
grace  of  her  step,  the  artificial  flush  upon  her  cheek, 
the  hollow  eye  and  brazen  gaze,  tell  of  the  prostitution 
or  loss  of  that  which  seems  to  us  the  one  angelic  ele- 
ment of  the  world.  All  these  are  human  wrecks — lost 
lives — men  and  women  who  have  surrendered  all  that 
is  best  in  them  to  that  which  is  basest — men  and  women 
who  have  turned  their  backs  upon  God  and  heaven, 
and  gone  down  into  a  very  hell  of  beastliness.  Whence 
and  why  are  these  wrecks  ?  Let  us  see. 

In  the  constitution  of  man — a  constitution  which 
associates  spirit  with  matter  by  marvellous  marriage 
of  organisms,  and  intimately  interchanging  sympathies, 
and  subtle  interdependences — the  Creator  has  so  con- 
structed the  body  that  it  shall  convey  to  the  mind,  for 
its  comprehension,  the  properties  and  qualities  of  ma- 
terial things.  These  properties  and  qualities  are  com- 
municated by  and  through  the  senses,  and  these  senses 
are  so  constituted  as,  in  their  exercise  and  office,  to 
affect  us  by  pleasure  or  by  pain.  Chiefly  the  office  of 
the  senses  is  that  of  conveying  pleasure.  For  the  sense 
of  smell,  the  vital  alchemy  at  work  in  the  flowers  elab- 
orates an  infinite  variety  of  perfumes.  For  the  sense 
of  taste,  the  food  is  prepared  in  meats  and  fruits  and 
grains  of  an  infinite  variety  of  flavors.  The  auditory 


04  Gold-Foil. 

sense  is  regaled  by  birds  and  brooks,  by  instruments 
which  the  cunning  hand  of  man  has  made,  and  by  that 
greatest  of  all  instruments,  the  human  voice.  Light 
ministers  to  the  pleasure  of  vision,  reflected  by  number- 
less  forms  of  beauty.  In  fact,  there  is  no  pathway  that 
leads  into  the  penetralia  of  our  natures,  and  gives  pas- 
sage to  the  comprehension  of  the  good  things  of  God, 
that  does  not  absorb  something  of  the  divine  aroma  of 
that  which  it  bears.  The  process  of  eating,  by  which 
we  prepare  for  deglutition  the  food  necessary  for  our 
support,  is  a  process  of  pleasure.  We  do  not  gorge 
our  food  like  the  anaconda,  impelled  by  a  bald  and 
beastly  greed ;  but  its  qualities  please  our  senses. 

Now,  so  long  as  these  senses  are  kept  to  their  appro- 
priate ministry — always  a  subordinate  one,  in  that  they 
deal  entirely  with  the  qualities  and  properties  of  mat- 
ter— so  long  will  it  be  well  with  the  soul  to  which  they 
minister ;  but  whenever  the  soul  turns  to  them  as  the 
source  of  its  highest  pleasures,  and  seeks  for  the  multi- 
plication and  intension  of  those  pleasures  as  the  great 
end  of  its  life,  then  the  whole  being  is  prostituted,  and 
absolute, immixed  evil  is  the  natural  and  inevitable  re- 
sult. There  is  no  law  in  the  universe  more  certain  in 
its  operation  than  that  which  punishes  sensuality.  The 
man  who  makes  a  god  of  his  belly  feels  the  result  in  an 
unwieldy,  gouty  frame  and  a  stupid  brain.  The  man 
who  delights  in  the  intoxication  of  his  senses  by  the  use 


Does  Seniuality  Pay?  95 

of  stimulants,  wears  them  out,  and  poisons,  even  to 
their  death,  both  body  and  soul.  The  man  and  the 
woman  who  seek,  by  the  gratification  of  desires  un- 
chastened  by  love  and  unwarranted  by  law,  to  filch 
from  a  heaven-ordained  relation  the  delights  of  its  hal- 
lowed commerce,  and  give  themselves  up  to  this  form 
of  sensuality,  never  fail  to  win  to  themselves  moral 
corruption  or  induration,  and  bodily  imbecility  and  dis- 
ease. At  the  gate  of  this  garden  of  sensual  pleasure 
the  angel  stands  with  his  sword  of  flame,  and  no  man 
enters  unsmitten  of  him.  In  the  path  of  sensuality,  in 
all  its  multiplied  forms,  God  has  placed  barriers  moun- 
tain-high, to  stop  men,  and  frighten  them  back  from 
the  certain  degradation  and  destruction  to  which  it 
leads.  The  path  to  life  is  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. 

I  have  said  thus  much  upon  the  philosophy  of  the 
prostitution  of  the  soul  to  sense,  that  I  might  the  more 
readily  reach  the  convictions  of  a  generation  which,  ac- 
tive as  it  is  in  intellectual  and  Christian  development, 
has  stronger  tendencies  to  sensuality  than  any  of  its 
predecessors  in  this  country.  As  wealth  increases  in 
any  country,  the  tendencies  to  sensuality,  through  the 
temptations  of  idleness  and  the  growth  of  the  means  of 
gratification,  always  increase.  The  history  of  national 
decline  and  downfall  is  but  a  detail  of  the  effects  of  sen- 
suality. The  elevation  of  stylo  in  living  beyond  a  cer- 


96  Gold-Foil. 

tain  point,  always  impinges  on  the  sensual.  Beyond 
this  point,  that  which  we  call  luxury  commences,  and 
luxury  is  but  sensuality  refined.  In  this  country  we  are 
all  seeking  for  luxury  ;  and  those  who  cannot  afford  it, 
associated  with  homes,  home  pleasures,  and  home  re- 
straints, embrace  such  forms  of  sensual  gratification  as 
come  within  their  means  to  purchase.  Men  who  are 
poor,  look  on  with  envy,  and  are  seeking  on  every  side, 
in  new  philosophies  and  systems,  and  phases  of  religion, 
for  the  license  which  shall  give  them  more  of  sense 
with  smaller  drafts  on  conscience.  As  the  free  spirit 
of  the  age  breaks  away  from  bondage  to  old  ideas,  old 
bigotries,  and  old  superstitions,  it  goes  wild,  and  in  its 
newly-found  liberty  runs  daringly  and  blindly  into  for- 
bidden fields.  The  free-love  doctrines  and  free-love 
practices  of  the  day,  the  multiplication  of  cases  of  di- 
vorce, and  the  shameful  infidelities  that  prevail,  are  all 
indications  of  the  sensual  tendencies  of  the  age. 

Where  penalty  succeeds  so  poorly,  there  may  seem 
to  be  rather  poor  encouragement  for  preaching ;  but, 
in  my  opinion,  the  teachers  and  preachers  of  the  age 
should  direct  more  of  their  power  against  a  tendency 
which  is  doing  more  to  undermine  the  character  of  the 
American  people  than  their  sateless  thirst  for  gold. 
Even  in  the  general  strife  for  wealth,  the  desire  for 
luxury  is  largely  the  motive  power.  The  object  kept 
prominently  in  view  is  feasting — eye-feasting,  ear-feast- 


Does  Senfuality  Pay  <?  97 

ing,  tongue-feasting,  or  the  feasting  of  other  or  of  all 
the  senses — and  this  beyond  natural  desire,  and  with 
the  wish  and  intent  to  coax  from  the  organs  of  sense 
more  of  pleasure  than  they  can  afford  with  health  to 
themselves  and  the  souls  to  which  they  minister. 

Now,  my  opinion  is,  that  to  a  man,  or  a  body  of 
men,  prostituted  or  in  process  of  prostitution  to  sense, 
there  is  very  little  use  in  talking  of  religion  or  morals. 
Those  are  motives  which  they  do  not  understand.  So 
I  address  myself  to  the  selfishness  of  the  age,  as  a  motive, 
the  strength  of  which  may  not  be  questioned,  and  bid 
it  withdraw  its  hand  from  this  fire  on  pain  of  losing  it. 
"  Cent,  per  cent,  do  we  pay  for  every  vicious  indul- 
gence," says  the  proverb ;  but  it  is  too  moderate  by 
half  in  its  estimate  of  expense,  for  a  youth  of  sensual 
pleasure  can  never  compensate  for  a  life  of  pain.  If 
you  do  not  believe  this,  ask  the  debauchee  whose  senses 
and  sensibilities  were  long  since  burned  to  ashes.  Seek 
further  testimony,  if  you  will,  of  her  whose  brief  life 
of  sensuality  is  closed  by  abandonment;  or  of  him 
whose  gluttony  has  made  him  a  disgustingly  bulky  bun- 
dle of  ailments,  or  of  him  whose  nerves  shiver  with  the 
poison  on  which  they  live.  If  you  say  that  I  am  deal 
ing  with  extremes,  without  analogies  to  yourselves,  re- 
tire into  your  own  consciousness,  and  question  what 
you  find  there — old  sins  of  sense  that  start  up  and  fill 
you  with  remorse  and  fear — old  wounds  of  conscience 
5 


98  Gold-Foil. 

gaping  and  bleeding  still — old  fractures  of  character 
that  refuse  to  unite,  and  make  you  shudder  at  your  own 
weakness — old  stains  upon  your  purity  that  memory 
will  not  allow  to  fade.  This  process  will  prove  to  any 
man  of  ordinary  weakness,  who  has  been  subjected  to 
ordinary  temptations,  that  never,  in  a  single  instance, 
has  he  indulged  hi  an  unlawful  sensual  pleasure  without 
paying  for  it  a  thousand  times  in  pain. 

The  universal  fact,  based  in  universal  experience,  is, 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  makes  so  poor  a 
return  for  its  cost  as  sensual  pleasure.  No  man  ever 
traded  extensively  in  this  line  without  becoming  a  bank- 
rupt in  happiness.  It  does  not  pay,  and  cannot  be  made 
to  pay,  and  every  man  would  see  and  understand  this 
if  he  would  keep  an  account  of  his  receipts  and  expen- 
ditures. Let  me  help  you  to  open  a  book  of  this  kind. 
Credit  sensual  pleasure  for  a  spree — a  night  of  hilarity, 
produced  by  drinking  and  feasting ;  and  then  turn  to 
the  other  side  of  the  account,  and  debit  it  with  the  de- 
tails of  cost — money  enough  to  furnish  bread  for  a  hun- 
dred hungry  mouths ;  a  day  of  languor,  pain,  and  in- 
dolence; a  damaged  reputation  which  may  interfere 
with  the  projects  and  prospects  of  a  whole  life ;  a  loss 
of  self-respect,  and  a  deadening  of  moral  sensibility;  a 
reduction  of  the  capacity  of  enjoyment  and  of  the  stock 
of  vitality ;  the  sullen  pangs  of  a  reproving  conscience ; 
the  tears  of  a  mother  and  the  severer  anguish  of  a 


Does  Senfuality  Pay  ?  99 

father, — all  these,  and  more,  for  an  hour  of  aitificial  in- 
sanity !     How  does  the  account  look  ? 

Suppose  we  try  another :  Credit  Sensual  Pleasure 
for  the  illicit  indulgence  of  a  powerful  passion.  Then 
place  the  cost  upon  the  debit  side  of  the  ledger :  shame 
and  fear,  conscious  loss  of  purity,  the  possession  of  a 
foul  secret  that  is  to  be  carried  into  all  society,  and  into 
all  relationships,  disease  and  remorse,  or,  what  is  more 
than  all  these,  hardness,  brutality,  and  the  formation  of 
habits  whose  only  end  is  ruin.  I  may  not,  through  fear 
of  giving  offence,  enter  into  all  the  details  of  the  debit 
side  of  this  account.  They  may  be  found  and  read  of 
all  men  in  graveyards,  in  hospitals,  in  brothels,  in  gar 
rets,  and  cellars,  in  ruined  families,  and  ruined  hearts 
and  hopes.  Now  does  this  thing  pay  ? 

I  have  presented  only  the  private  side  of  this  ac 
count,  and  that  but  imperfectly.  There  is  a  public 
side.  The  innumerable  paupers,  whose  life  is  supported 
by  the  State,  owe  their  pauperism,  directly  or  remote- 
ly, in  three  cases  out  of  four,  to  sensuality — to  strong 
drink,  licentiousness,  or  some  form  of  extravagance  that 
proceeded  from  a  devotion  to  sensual  pleasure.  Idiots 
begotten  in  drunkenness,  lunatics  through  various  forms 
of  sensual  vice,  criminals  who  are  caged  in  every  jail 
and  prison  like  wild  beasts,  diseased  creatures,  alike 
loathsome  to  themselves  and  others,  crowded  into  num- 
berless pestilent  hospitals, — all  these  are  public  burdens, 


100  Gold-Foil. 

imposed  by  the  sins  of  sensuality.  If  we  run  through 
the  whole  catalogue  of  crimes,  we  shall  find  them  all 
growing  directly  or  indirectly  out  of  this  comprehen- 
sive vice.  In  fact,  it  may  be  said  that  all  crime,  with 
all  its  consequences,  is  but  a  manifestation  of  the  dom- 
inance of  sense  over  reason  and  conscience. 

In  this  view — and  no  one  knows  better  than  its  vic- 
tims that  it  is  the  correct  view — Sensuality  rises  into 
the  position  of  the  grand  scourge  of  mankind.  It  is 
the  mother  of  disease,  the  nurse  of  crime,  the  burden 
of  taxation,  and  the  destroyer  of  souls.  Oh,  if  the 
world  could  rise  out  of  this  swamp  of  sensuality,  rank 
with  weeds  and  dank  with  deadly  vapors — full  of  vipers, 
thick  with  pitfalls,  and  lurid  with  deceptive  lights,  and 
stand  upon  the  secure  heights  of  virtue  where  God's 
sun  shines,  and  the  winds  of  heaven  breathe  blandly 
and  healthfully,  how  would  human  life  become  blessed 
and  beautiful !  The  great  burden  of  the  world  rolled 
off,  how  would  it  spring  forward  into  a  grand  career  of 
prosperity  and  progress !  This  change,  for  this  coun- 
try, rests  almost  entirely  with  the  young  men  of  the 
country.  It  lies  with  them  more  than  any  other  class, 
and  more  than  all  other  classes,  to  say  whether  this 
country  shall  descend  still  lower  in  its  path  to  brutali- 
ty, or  rise  higher  than  the  standard  of  its  loftiest 
dreams.  The  devotees  of  sense,  themselves,  have 
greatly  lost  their  power  for  good,  and  comparatively 


Does  Senfuality  Pay  ?  101 

few  will  change  their  course  of  life.  Woman  will  be 
pure  if  man  will  be  true.  Young  men,  this  great  re- 
sult abides  with  you.  If  you  could  but  see  how  beau- 
tiful  a  flower  grows  upon  the  thorny  stalk  of  self-de- 
nial, you  would  give  the  plant  the  honor  it  deserves. 
If  it  seem  hard  and  homely,  despise  it  not,  for  in  it 
sleeps  the  beauty  of  heaven  and  the  breath  of  angels. 
If  you  do  not  witness  the  glory  of  its  blossoming  dur- 
ing the  day  of  life,  its  petals  will  open  when  the  night 
of  death  comes,  and  gladden  your  closing  eyes  with 
their  marvellous  loveliness,  and  fill  your  soul  with  their 
grateful  perfume. 


IX. 


THE  WAY  TO  GROW  OLD. 

"  Good  morrow,  glasses  I    Farewell  lassos  1" 
"  All  wish  to  live  long,  but  none  to  be  called  old." 
"  Every  dog  has  his  day." 
"  A  hundred  years  hence  we  shall  all  be  bald." 

"If  you  would  not  live  to  be  Old,  you  must  be  hanged  when  you  are 
young." 

IF  we  except  the  Chinese,  (who  have  a  remarkable 
talent  for  being  exceptions  to  general  rules,)  all 
men  and  women  make  an  idol  of  youth.  Manhood  in 
its  fresh  embodiment — healthful,  strong,  and  majestic — 
and  womanhood  in  its  rosy  morning — fragrant  with 
sweet  thoughts  and  hopes,  and  radiant  in  its  dewy  beauty 
— attract  the  love  and  admiration  of  all — perhaps  even 
the  envy  of  many.  Childhood  looks  up  to  them,  and 
longs  to  grow  to  their  estate.  Old  age  regards  the 
memory  of  them  with  a  sigh,  and  rarely  fails  to  find  in 
them  its  most  congenial  society.  We  walk  to  our  mir- 


The  Way  to  grow  old.  103 

rors,  and  scan  with  gathering  sadness  the  lines  that  the 
graver  of  care  has  traced,  and  pluck  from  our  temples, 
with  unhappy  surprise,  the  first  stark  threads  of  silver 
that  Time  slips  through  our  chance-thrown  locks,  or  in- 
lays upon  their  plaited  black  and  brown ;  yet  "  we  feel 
as  young  as  we  ever  did."  We  are  not  estranged  fro  m 
the  young,  but  stand  among  them  with  strong  hands 
and  hearts,  unable  to  realize  that  they  look  upon  us  as 
men  and  women  who  are  "  getting  considerably  along 
in  the  world."  The  cheek  and  lip  of  Beauty,  her 
sparkling  eyes,  and  plump  outline,  and  graceful  and 
elastic  step,  touch  us  with  the  same  thrill  of  pleasure 
that  they  did  in  the  early  days  of  sympathy  and  pas- 
sion. Youth — ah!  Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple  of 
Life  !  It  matters  little  how  gorgeous  the  temple  may 
be  when  entered, — how  majestic  the  arches,  how  long 
the  vista,  how  richly  illuminated  and  emblazoned  the 
windows,  or  how  heavenly  the  music  that  thrills  its  iris- 
tinted  silences, — we  never  forget  the  precious  moments 
spent  in  lingering  at  the  portal,  the  glorious  rosette 
above  it,  and  the  sky-born  melody  of  the  chimes  that 
filled  our  ears  and  hearts  with  welcome. 

Our  life's  ideal  is  always  filled  with  the  blood  and 
breath  of  youth.  Our  finest  conceptions  of  human 
beauty  evermore  embrace  youth  as  their  prime  ele- 
ment. Strength,  enthusiasm,  hope,  purity,  love, — all 
these  when  combined  and  embodied  in  their  most  at- 


104  Gold-Foil. 

tractive  forms,  rise  in  our  imaginations  as  youthful  at- 
tributes. So  true  is  this,  that  in  looking  forward  to  the 
day  when  the  dust  of  those  who  have  gone  before  us 
into  the  land  of  spirits  shall  rise,  and  assume  the  forms 
they  are  to  wear  in  the  celestial  city,  there  springs  up 
always  a  vision  of  their  youth.  We  expect  to  meet  the 
tottering  father  whose  eyes  we  closed,  and  whose 
wasted  and  feeble  limbs  we  composed,  as  young,  and 
fresh,  and  strong  as  when  he  bore  us  to  the  baptismal 
font.  There  are  to  be  no  thin,  silvery  curls  upon  the 
brow  of  the  mother,  but  in  some  sweet  way,  all  the  hal- 
lowed graces  of  maternity  and  the  unfathomable  ten- 
derness of  a  soul  disciplined  by  sorrow  are  to  be  asso- 
ciated— interfused — with  the  beauty  and  the  youth  of 
the  bride.  .Immortality — twin-sister  of  Eternity — ia 
always  young,  and  brings  no  thought  of  age  and  decay. 
An  angel  with  a  wrinkle  ?  A  cherub  with  a  feeble  or  a 
weary  wing  ?  We  cannot  imagine  such  beings.  Heaven 
and  everlasting  youth  are  inseparable  thoughts. 

So  it  Is  that  the  first  consciousness  we  have  of  grow- 
ing old  conies  to  us  with  a  pang.  There  seems  to  be 
something  unnatural  in  it.  We  feel  the  soul  within  us 
expanding,  and  know  that  its  vision  is  clearer,  its  power 
greater,  and  its  capacity  for  happiness  diviner,  yet  the 
body  in  which  this  soul  lives  shows  signs  of  decay. 
There  is  an  increasing  incompatibility  between  the 
tenant  and  the  tenement.  Some  people  feel  so  badly 


The  Way  to  grow  old.  105 

about  it  that  they  undertake  to  repair  the  old  taber- 
nacle— to  put  in  porcelain  teeth,  and  dye  their  hair, 
and  don  artificial  curls,  and  put  on  feathers  and  finery. 
It  is  all  a  pretty  little  device,  and  harmless,  because  it 
cheats  nobody,  and  really  makes  the  world  better 
looking.  And  this  brings  me  to  what  I  desire  to  say 
touching  the  duty  of  growing  old  gracefully  and 
happily. 

There  is  a  homely  kind  of  philosophy  that  will  help 
those  who  are  not  up  to  any  thing  higher.  The  alterna- 
tive of  growing  old  is  dying  young.  The  only  way  to 
keep  hair  from  becoming  gray  is  to  have  it  clipped  off 
as  a  memento  of  a  departed  man,  or  laid  away  to  decay 
with  him.  Wrinkles  are  either  to  be  made  out  in 
God's  sunlight,  among  living  things,  by  the  hand  of 
Time,  or  by  worms  working  in  the  dark.  I  take  it 
that  there  is  an  easy  choice  between  these  two  evils, 
and  that  whatever  the  evidences  may  be  that  God  has 
answered  our  wishes — whether  gray  hairs,  or  feeble 
knees,  or  dull  sight — we  should  regard  them  with 
gratitude. 

Again,  keeping  alive  our  sympathy  with  the  race 
to  which  we  belong,  and  manfully  willing  to  take  our 
chance  with  the  rest,  we  should  remember  that  when 
we  perceive  the  signs  of  age  upon  ourselves,  we  have 
enjoyed  our  own  single  term  of  youth,  like  all  men 
who  have  gone  before  us,  and  that  those  who  come 
5* 


106  Gold-Foil. 

after  us  will  have  no  more.  Every  dog  has  his  day. 
Those  who  are  young  to-day,  and  who  are  doubtless 
the  subjects  of  envy  to  some  of  us,  will  be  old  to- 
morrow. They  are  enjoying  the  day  we  have  already 
enjoyed,  and  will  soon  reach  the  point  where  we  are 
standing.  It  is  an  even  thing ;  and  it  compromises  all 
that  is  unselfish  and  chivalrous  within  us  to  wish  for  a 
better  lot  in  this  respect  than  is  meted  out  to  the  rest 
of  the  great  brotherhood  of  men.  Still  again,  if  we 
find  the  evidences  of  age  creeping  upon  us,  we  cannot 
avoid  their  further  encroachment  except  by  committing 
suicide ;  and  this  would  be  a  very  bad  alternative. 
What  we  cannot  help,  we  must  bear ;  and  it  is  for  our 
interest  to  bear  it  cheerfully.  It  is  very  pleasant  to 
be  young,  but  as  the  body  can  only  be  young  once,  the 
next  best  thing  is  to  have  the  privilege  of  growing  old. 
We  are  to  remember  that  if  we  look  back  with  regret 
to  the  period  we  have  passed,  the  young  are  looking 
forward  with  hope  that  they  may  reach  the  period  at 
which  we  have  arrived.  They  may  not  like  to  be 
called  old,  but  they  all  wish  to  live  long. 

But  there  is  a  better  point  than  this  from  which  to 
regard  this  matter.  To  go  back  to  our  theory  that 
every  thing  immortal  hi  its  nature  is,  by  necessity  of 
that  nature,  young,  I  make  the  proposition  that  the 
secret  of  growing  old  gracefully  and  happily  resides  in 
the  comprehension  of  this  fact,  and  in  the  institution 


The  Way  to  grow  old.  107 

of  such  measures  as  may  be  necessary  to  keep  a  decay, 
ing  body  from  infecting  or  injuring  in  any  way  the 
soul's  health  while  attached  to  it.  No  man  on  God's 
footstool  feels  old,  or  realizes  that  he  is  old,  whose  soul 
has  not  been  improperly  affected  by  his  body.  The 
feeling  of  age  in  the  mind  is  like  the  effect  upon  life  of 
being  in  an  old,  damp  house,  dingy  with  dirt  and  reek- 
ing with  rottenness, — more  perhaps  like  the  effect  of 
the  close,  bed-fellow  association  of  age  and  infancy — 
the  former  drawing  off"  the  vital  forces  of  the  latter, 
and  imparting  to  it  the  taint  of  its  diseases.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  an  old  soul  in  the  universe,  but  there 
are  a  great  many  diseased  or  depressed  souls — diseased 
or  depressed  by  a  great  variety  of  causes,  prominent 
among  which  is  the  decay  of  the  bodies  which  they 
inhabit. 

The  natural  idolatry  exercised  by  the  old  for  the 
young,  though  owing  greatly  to  the  unpleasant  associa- 
tions of  age,  has  a  deeper  meaning  iu  it  than  we  have 
generally  comprehended.  God  turns  our  hearts  toward 
the  young  that  the  influence  of  youth  upon  them  may 
be  a  power  conservative  of  their  health,  and  preventive 
of  the  depressing  influence  of  bodily  age.  It  is  a  part 
of  the  beautiful  ministry  of  children  to  preserve  unin 
jured  by  the  passage  of  time  the  souls  of  those  with 
whom  they  are  associated ;  and  in  the  general  rule  of 
life  the  Good  Father  provides  children  for  those  who 


108  Gold-Foil. 

live  to  middle  age,  and  when  those  are  grown  up,  He 
gives  them  grand-children,  so  that  they  shall  never  be 
without  this  beneficent  influence.  Those  who  remain 
unmarried,  or  are  not  blest  with  children,  grow  old  in 
feeling  as  they  grow  old  in  years,  from  the  lack  of  this 
influence  upon  them,  though  there  are  exceptions  to 
this  rule — the  exceptions  illustrating  the  principle  even 
better  or  more  forcibly  than  the  general  rule  itself. 
There  are  some  among  the  childless  old  who  are  pas- 
sionately fond  of  children,  and  I  have  never  known 
such  men  and  women  who  were  not  genial,  sunny,  and 
young  in  feeling.  They  seem  instinctively  to  turn  to 
children  for  that  influence,  whatever  it  may  be,  which 
will  preserve  their  souls  from  the  depressing  power  of 
age.  I  make  the  broad  proposition  that  there  is  not 
an  old  man  or  woman  living,  at  this  moment  in  close 
sympathy  with  the  hearts  and  minds  of  children  and 
youth,  who  feels  the  influence  upon  his  or  her  soul  of  a 
decaying  body. 

The  springs  of  the  soul's  life  abide  in  the  affections. 
If  these  are  properly  fed,  either  by  love  of  the  young, 
or  by  love  in  its  higher  and  stronger  manifestations, 
they  mount  into  perennial  youth.  Next  above  the 
love  of  the  young — special  or  universal — comes  con- 
nubial love,  as  a  conservator  of  the  youthful  feeling  of 
the  soul.  Two  married  hearts  that  came  together  in 
early  life,  and  have  lived  in  the  harmony  and  love 


The  Way  to  grow  old.  109 

which  constitute  real  marriage,  never  grow  old.  The 
love  they  bear  to  one  another  is  an  immortal  thing. 
It  is  as  fond  and  tender  as  it  was  when  they  pledged 
their  faith  to  each  other  at  the  altar.  Such  a  love  as 
this  can  rise  from  no  other  than  an  immortal  fountain. 
The  fires  of  passion  may  die,  desire  may  burn  out  like 
a  candle,  yet  chastened  and  purified,  this  love — a 
product  of  essential  youth — becomes  the  conservator 
of  youth.  The  pine  produces  its  resin,  and  the  resin 
preserves  the  pine  from  decay,  centuries  after  the  life 
that  produced  it  has  passed  away.  The  little  spring 
that  bursts  up  from  where  nature  prepares  her  waters 
for  the  healing  of  the  nations,  deposits  for  itself  a  wall 
which  shuts  out  all  impurities,  and  keeps  it  always 
sparkling  and  young. 

Above  this  love — better  than  this  and  every  other 
love — is  the  love  of  the  soul  for  the  Father  Soul — the 
sympathy  of  that  which  is  immortal  in  it  for  Ilim  from 
whom  it  came.  The  man  who  comprehends  his  rela- 
tion to  tlu's  Being,  and  whose  heart  goes  out  toward 
Him  in  true  filial  affection,  knows  that  age  is  only  a 
word,  and  that  it  has  no  more  relation  to  his  soul  than 
it  has  to  God  himself.  God  is  doubtless  intimately  as- 
sociated with  this  material  universe.  It  is  blent  with 
all  His  plans.  It  is  the  organ  in  multitudinous  methods 
of  His  thought.  In  many  ways  it  is  the  means  by 
which  He  manifests  His  will,  so  that,  in  a  certain  sense, 


110  Gold-Foil. 

we  may  regard  it  as  a  body  of  which  He  is  the  resident 
and  president  soul.  Yet  this  universe  is  to  wax  old 
like  a  garment.  It  is  to  fade  like  our  own  bodies ;  but 
no  one  supposes  that  the  old  age  of  the  universe  will 
touch  the  immortal  youth  of  its  Maker.  The  extin- 
guishment of  one  of  the  lamps  that  He  has  hung  out  in 
space  brings  no  shadow  upon  His  brow.  The  wreck 
of  a  sidereal  system  works  no  weakness  in  His  arm. 
Wrapped  in  the  aura  of  His  own  ineffable  love,  He 
lives ;  and  because  He  lives,  we  shall  live  also ;  be- 
cause He  is  immortally  young  shall  we  also  be  immor- 
tally young ;  because  no  organized  material  system, 
however  intimately  associated  with  Him,  can  affect,  by 
its  decay  and  wreck,  the  fountain  of  His  life,  the  decay 
of  our  bodies,  if  we  are  like  Hun,  and  live  in  the  same 
atmosphere  of  love,  will  not  affect  us,  either  in  fact  or 
feeling. 

A  man  who  lives  wrapped  in  this  atmosphere  of 
love — love  of  children,  love  of  a  bosom  companion, 
love  of  men,  love  of  God — imparts  to  his  decaying 
body  something  of  the  youth  of  the  spirit  within.  As 
the  body  may  and  does  affect  the  spirit  when  no  coun- 
teracting agencies  prevent,  so  does  the  spirit  act  upon 
the  body  as  a  preservative  power  when  in  its  normal 
condition  and  exercise.  Many  an  old  man's  and  wo- 
man's face  have  I  seen  luminous  with  the  fires  of  youth, 
outshining  from  the  soul.  The  clogs  are  lifted  from 


The  Way  to  grow  old.  Ill 

the  mortal  when  the  soul  comes  into  sympathy  with 
this  element  of  immortality.  The  love  that  gushes  for 
all  is  the  real  elixir  of  life — the  fountain  of  bodily 
longevity.  It  is  the  lack  of  this  that  always  produces 
the  feeling  of  age.  Upon  a  soul  not  filled  and  exercised 
by  love,  the  decaying  body  encroaches  with  its  weak- 
ness  and  poison,  till  the  belief  of  many  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul — a  soul  independent  of  matter — be- 
comes uprooted. 

Whenever  men  or  women  find  themselves  losing 
their  sympathy  with  youthful  hearts  and  pursuits,  they 
may  be  sure  that  something  is  wrong  with  them ;  for  it 
is  not  in  the  nature  of  the  soul  to  grow  old.  It  may 
grow  in  height,  and  depth,  and  breadth,  and  power, 
but  the  passage  of  years  can  bring  it  no  decay.  Con- 
sequently, all  those  who  feel  themselves  dissonances  in 
the  song  which  the  young  life  around  them  is  singing, 
are  allowing  their  bodies  to  do  their  souls  damage.  I 
believe  that  every  healthy  old  saint  in  Christendom 
finds  his  heart  going  out  more  and  more  towards  the 
young.  As  his  evening  sun  descends,  and  heaven 
grows  glorious  while  the  shadows  gather  upon  the 
earth,  ho  loves  more  and  more  to  gather  around  him 
that  which  is  essentially  heavenly — young  men  and 
maidens,  and  the  bright  forms  and  innocent  faces  of 
children.  Prepared  for  heaven,  it  is  only  in  such  socie- 
ty and  that  which  sympathizes  with  it,  that  he  finds  his 


112  Gold-Foil. 

heart  at  home.  I  believe  that  social  life,  in  all  its 
healthful  manifestations,  is  that  which  combines  all 
ages — which  brings  youth  and  middle  age  together 
with  old  age  and  childhood.  Every  age  needs  the  in- 
fluence of  every  other  age  to  keep  it  healthful.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  age  with  those  who,  in  a  few  years 
at  most,  will  be  as  the  angels  in  heaven.  As  we  shall 
be,  and  as  we  shall  associate,  there,  so  should  we  be, 
and  so  should  we  associate  here;  and  let  this  truth 
never  fail  to  be  remembered :  that  unless  the  aged  sym- 
pathize with  the  young,  they  will  get  no  sympathy,  save 
in  the  form  of  pity,  from  the  young.  God  does  not 
send  young  sympathies  in  that  direction.  He  always 
holds  us  back  with  them,  while  our  bodies  go  on  to  decay 
and  death,  and  we  forget,  in  immortal  youth,  that  we 
were  ever  old. 


X. 


ALMSGIVING. 

"  Give  and  spend, 
And  God  will  send." 

"  Charity  and  pride  have  different  aims,  yet  both  feed  the  poor." 
"  What  the  Abbot  of  Bamba  cannot  eat,  he  gives  away  for  the  good  of  hia 
soul." 

"  He  steals  a  pig,  and  gives  away  tho  trotters  for  God's  sake." 

I  HAVE  no  idea  of  absolute  property  but  that  which 
is  born  of  absolute  creation  by  an  independent, 
self-existent  power.  There  is  but  one  genuine  proprie- 
tor in  the  universe,  and  that  proprietor  is  its  Maker. 
All  that  we  call  ours — all  that  we  win  by  toil,  and  are 
allowed  to  hold,  for  our  use  and  at  our  disposal,  by  the 
laws  of  civil  society — was  made  and  is  owned  by  Him 
who  made  and  owns  us.  The  mite  that  makes  a  home 
for  itself  in  our  cheese  does  not,  by  the  processes  of 
burrowing  and  feeding,  institute  a  claim  to  proper- 
ty in  the  cheese.  The  robin  that  builds  a  nest  in  our 
maple,  from  materials  selected  upon  our  land,  cannot  be 


114  Gold-Foil. 

said  to  own  the  tree,  if  we  have  a  purpose  for  it  that 
interferes  with  her  nest.  That  God  is  the  grand  pro- 
prietor must  be  received  as  a  cardinal,  vital  fact  by  all 
who  do  not  deny  the  existence  of  God  himself.  It  is 
not  for  me  to  declare  to  the  world  the  manner  in  which 
He  regards  this  portion  of  His  property ;  but  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  He  looks  upon  it  as  a  great  mansion 
which  He  has  taken  infinite  pains  to  construct  for  the 
shelter  and  support  of  a  family  of  children  in  whom  He 
takes  infinite  interest.  These  continents  of  verdure, 
this  great  and  wide  sea,  swinging  like  a  pendulum  be- 
tween its  shores,  overhung  by  the  moon's  mysterious 
dial,  these  rivers,  nursed  in  their  crystal  infancy  at  the 
bosoms  of  these  motherly  hills  and  mountains,  this 
downy  atmosphere,  that  feeds  our  breath,  and  fans  our 
brows,  and  springs  over  us  its  canopy  of  blue,  this  won- 
derful variety  of  animal  life,  that  rejoices  in  forest  wilder- 
nesses and  smooth  pastures,  and  swims  in  the  sea  and 
floats  upon  the  air — all  these  were  made  and  are  sup- 
ported by  His  power,  for  the  benefit  of  the  intelligent 
creatures  whom  He  has  placed  among  them. 

Now,  if  we  have  any  thing  like  ownership  in  these 
things,  this  ownership  has  its  basis  in  God's  beneficence. 
If  we  hold  any  thing  by  right,  for  our  special  use,  and 
at  our  disposal,  we  hold  it  as  a  gift  of  God,  and  as  a 
temporary  gift.  We  are  allowed  to  use  these  things 
for  a  time ;  and  then  we  pass  away,  and  they  are  trans- 


Almsgiving.  115 

ferred  to  the  possession  of  others.  Not  unfrequently 
they  are  taken  from  us  while  we  live.  The  patient  Man 
of  TJz  exhibited  his  idea  of  property — the  true  idea — 
in  the  familiar  words,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord 
hath  taken  away."  In  making  this  world,  the  Creator 
furnished  it  with  all  the  materials  necessary  for  the  sup- 
port of  Hi 3  entire  human  family.  For  the  best  devel- 
opment of  our  minds  and  bodies,  He  made  it  necessary 
for  us  to  labor,  so  that,  by  moulding  the  agencies  and 
recombining  the  materials  He  permits  us  to  use,  we 
may  secure  that  which  is  necessary  for  our  sustenance 
and  shelter.  He  knew  that  some  would  be  able  to  se- 
cure more  than  enough  for  sustenance  and  shelter,  and 
that  others  would  not  be  able  to  secure  enough,  yet  He 
did  not  intend  that  any  should  lack  food  and  clothing, 
or  any  of  the  essentials  of  healthful  bodily  and  mental 
life.  He  knew,  and,  I  verily  believe,  intended,  that  sonic 
should  be  poor  and  that  others  should  be  rich ;  and 
thus  instituted  the  emergency  for  human  beneficence  or 
charity.  It  is  better,  on  the  whole,  that  the  world 
should  be  made  up  of  benefactors  and  beneficiaries 
than  that  each  man  should  be  independent  of  every 
other  man. 

Thus,  every  man  whom  lie  has  made,  or  whom  He 
has  allowed  to  become,  rich,  He  has  by  that  favor  com- 
missioned to  be  an  almoner  of  His  bounty  to  those  whom 
He  has  not  thus  favored.  The  sick,  the  helpless,  the 


116  Gold-Foil. 

utterly  poor  through  misfortune — these  are  always  with 
us.  The  Saviour  Himself  stated  this  as  a  fact  good  for 
all  time ;  and  I  know  of  no  man  who  dares  to  deny 
that  these  unfortunate  ones  have  an  absolute  right  to 
live,  and,  consequently,  a  right  to  so  much  of  the  prop- 
erty of  others  as  may  be  necessary  to  support  them. 
The  pauper  systems  established  by  all  Christian  states 
have  their  basis  in  the  absolute  right  of  the  helpless  to 
aid  at  the  hand  of  society.  If  you,  who  read  these 
words,  are  rich,  you  recognize,  every  time  you  pay  a 
tax  for  the  comfort  and  support  of  those  who  can  do 
nothing  or  little  for  themselves,  the  fact,  that  a  portion 
of  your  wealth,  at  least,  belongs  to  somebody  else. 
Whether  you  recognize  it  or  not,  the  fact  is  the  same. 
"What  we  call  State  charities,  are  essentially  State  equi- 
ties. The  lunatic  asylums,  the  pauper  establishments, 
the  hospitals,  the  reform  schools,  all  grow  out  of  the 
duty  which  the  element  of  wealth  in  society  owes  to 
the  element  of  weakness. 

But  the  State  is  a  great  body,  and  moves  clumsily. 
There  are  countless  fields  of  beneficent  or  charitable 
effort  and  privilege  to  which  its  operations  are  not 
fitted.  There  is  a  great  amount  of  work  which  it 
neither  can  do,  nor  should  do ;  and  precisely  here  arise 
the  duties  of  individual  wrealth  to  individual  want — of 
individual  wealth  to  the  need  of  the  world  for  food,  rai- 
ment, Christian  light,  educational  and  religious  institu- 


Almsgiving.  117 

tions,  and  almost  numberless  schemes  of  public  good. 
If,  in  the  economy  of  Heaven,  there  exist  the  necessity 
of  institutions  and  schemes  for  private  and  public  good 
which  are  manifestly  outside  of  the  legitimate  sphere  of 
the  State — institutions  and  schemes  which  can  only  be 
established  by  the  contributions  of  wealth — it  is  as  if 
God  had  laid  His  finger  upon  every  rich  man's  purse, 
and  pronounced  the  word,  "  Give  ! "  What  do  you 
think  God  gave  you  more  wealth  than  is  requisite  to 
satisfy  your  rational  wants  for,  when  you  look  around 
and  see  how  many  are  in  absolute  need  of  that  which 
you  do  not  need  ?  Can  you  not  take  the  hint  ? 

Men  may  give  from  a  compassionate,  or  generous 
impulse — from  a  momentary  excitement  of  their  sym- 
pathies— and  very  much  is  given  in  this  way,  without 
doubt.  I  will  not  quarrel  with  this  variety  of  charity ; 
but  I  believe  that  a  genuine  spirit  of  beneficence  can 
be  exercised  by  no  mind  that  does  not  recognize  all  the 
wealth  it  enjoys  as  the  gift  of  God,  to  be  shared  with 
the  children  of  penury,  or  devoted  to  institutions  that 
contemplate  the  general  good.  God  is  the  giver,  life  a 
partnership,  humanity  a  brotherhood.  The  selfish  ac- 
cumulation, and  sequestration  from  society  of  super- 
fluous good,  is  at  war  with  the  economy  of  the  Uni- 
verse. Every  thing  in  nature  tends  to  equilibrium,  and 
the  universal  compensation  of  expenditure.  The  rill 
takes  the  gift  of  the  mountain  spring  and  passes  it  on 


118  Gold-Foil. 

to  the  brook,  and  the  brook  pours  the  waters  it  receives 
into  the  river,  and  the  river  bears  the  burden  of  its 
gifts  to  the  sea,  and  heaven  itself  descends  to  lift  from 
the  sea  and  return  in  cloud-winged  argosies  to  the 
spring  from  whence  they  came  the  waters  which  it  gave, 
and  glorifies  the  spot  by  hanging  over  it  the  beauty 
of  its  rainbow.  What  earth  sends  up,  heaven  sends 
down,  and  what  heaven  sends  down,  earth  returns. 
Circulation,  diffusion,  tendency  by  multiplied  methods 
to  equilibrium — these  are  the  universal  laws  of  nature. 
It  is  only  man  that  hoards.  It  is  only  man  that  ac- 
cumulates, and  for  selfish  ends  holds  imprisoned  super- 
fluous good,  and  refuses  to  let  it  go  out  on  its  benefi- 
cent mission. 

The  charity  of  the  day  is,  as  a  general  thing,  but  a 
sorry  apology  for  that  beneficence  which  springs  from 
a  true  apprehension  of  the  primary  source  of  wealth, 
its  real  ownership,  and  its  legitimate  uses.  Millions 
have  doubtless  been  given  for  the  gratification  of 
pride,  and  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  applause  of 
the  world.  If  the  time  ever  come  when  even  and  ex- 
act justice  shall  be  meted  out  to  the  various  agencies 
operative  in  the  world  toward  beneficent  results,  the 
recipients  of  charity  in  its  several  forms  will  find  them- 
selves  largely  indebted  to  the  devil.  Bread  is  bread  to 
the  hungry,  and  clothing  raiment  to  the  naked,  and  the 
Bible  light  to  the  benighted.  It  does  not  matter  to 


Almsgiving.  119 

the  needy  from  what  source  a  charitable  ministry  pro- 
ceed. If  they  are  fed  and  clothed  and  enlightened, 
they  have  cause  of  satisfaction  and  gratitude,  without 
questioning  the  sources  of  the  good  wThich  reaches 
them. 

I  suppose  that  one  of  the  severest  trials  of  a  sordid 
man  is  that  which  is  caused  by  the  disgust  he  feels  in 
the  society  of  his  own  soul.  I  once  heard  a  preacher 
remark  that  were  it  not  for  the  interposition  of  sleep, 
by  which  all  men  are  separated  once  in  twenty-four 
hours  from  the  consciousness  of  their  own  meanness, 
they  would  all  die  of  self-contempt.  I  judge  the  state- 
ment to  be  somewhat  broad,  but  it  holds  within  it  a 
truth  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  a  moiety,  more  or  less, 
of  the  charities  of  wealth.  Every  man  who  achieves 
riches  by  great  speculations,  by  sharp  practices,  by 
trade  which  involves  operations  not  altogether  honora- 
ble, has  his  own  method  of  maintaining  self-compla- 
cency, or  self-toleration ;  but  his  efforts  usually  take 
the  form  of  charity.  There  is  no  scoundrel  living  who 
docs  not  feel  obliged  to  convince  himself,  in  some  way, 
that  he  is  as  good  as  the  average  of  mankind.  Poor 
scoundrels,  who  have  no  more  than  money  enough  to 
feed  their  vices  and  themselves,  depreciate  the  excel- 
lence of  the  character  about  them,  and  win  the  self- 
complacency  they  seek  by  dragging  it  down  to  the  dirt 
which  defines  their  own  level.  Rich  scoundrels,  find- 


120  Gold-Foil. 

ing  themselves  respectable  as  the  world  goes,  naturally 
resort  to  sacrifices — to  throwing  out  and  abandoning 
to  the  maw  of  the  wolf  that  follows  them  some  con- 
temptible portion  of  gains  gotten  meanly  and  kept 
foully.  Even  the  highway  robber  boasts  that  if  he  has 
taken  from  the  rich,  he  has  given  to  the  poor.  Not 
unfrequently  these  men,  grown  rich  by  doubtful  courses, 
become  special  patrons  of  the  church,  or  of  educational 
institutions.  We  see  them  installed  in  the  most  ex- 
pensive pews  on  Sunday,  or  adorning  a  select  position 
devoted  to  the  annual  exhibition  of  a  board  of  trustees. 
But  these  are  all  comparatively  tolerable  men. 
They  do  good  in  the  world,  and  evince  a  degree  of 
sensitiveness  which  demands  more  or  less  of  our  sym- 
pathy. There  is  a  form  of  self-conciliation,  however, 
which  would  be  laughable  were  its  results  less  disas- 
trous. Though  not  laughable,  it  is  really  admirable, 
as  a  specimen  of  the  most  perfect  type  of  meanness ; 
for  I  take  it  that  every  thing  perfect  in  its  kind  is,  in  a 
sense,  admirable.  It  is  exhibited  by  those  who  under- 
take to  satisfy  themselves  with  themselves  by  initiating 
secret  schemes  of  good  to  go  into  operation  after  they 
are  dead — schemes  which,  sooner  than  establish  or 
assist,  they  would  pluck  their  eyes  out,  if  they  were 
expecting  to  live  forever.  They  are  thus  enabled  to 
gratify  their  greed  for  gold — to  overreach,  exact  usury, 
and  hoard,  and  at  the  same  time  save  themselves  from 


Almsgiving.  121 

a  crushing  self-contempt  by  contemplating  in  secret 
the  fact  that  their  gams  are  already  devoted  to  a  good 
end !  But  the  devil  never  leaves  them  here.  He  in- 
duces them  to  trample  under  feet  the  sympathies  and 
claims  of  consanguinity,  to  cut  off  with  a  dirty  shilling 
old  servants  whose  lives  have  been  devoted  to  them, 
to  institute  schemes  of  beneficence  impracticable  even 
to  ludicrousness,  or  to  leave  their  wills  so  imperfectly 
drawn  as  to  create  quarrels  among  their  natural  heirs, 
and  destroy  the  peace  and  harmony  of  families  that 
will  hold  their  memories  fit  subjects  of  execration  so 
long  as  they  hold  them  at  all. 

It  is  time  that  wealth  in  nominally  Christian  hands 
were  bestowed  upon  the  weak,  the  needy,  and  the  suf- 
fering, from  higher  motives  than  a  compassionate  im- 
pulse or  desire  for  public  applause  and  private  satisfac- 
tion. I  know  that  it  is  very  hard  to  admit  that  we  do 
not  hold  our  superfluous  wealth  and  superabundant 
means  by  absolute  right — that  what  we  earn  by  toil  or 
win  by  traffic  is  not  ours  to  hoard  or  dispense  at  our 
pleasure  ;  but  if  we  are  really  and  truly  owners  of  what 
we  possess,  then  beneficence  is  no  duty.  It  is  simply  a 
favor  shown  to  God  through  care  for  His  unfortunate 
children,  for  which  He  owes  us  cither  adequate  com- 
pensation or  appropriate  gratitude.  The  simple  truth 
is,  that  in  the  degree  by  which  a  man's  wealth  is  in- 
creased, is  his  family  enlarged.  Over  against  every 
G 


122  Gold-Foil. 

pile  of  superfluous  dollars,  God  places  a  pile  of 
needs. 

I  account  the  office  of  benefactor,  or  almoner,  to 
which  God  appoints  all  those  whom  he  has  favored 
with  wealth,  one  of  the  most  honorable  and  delightful 
in  the  world.  He  never  institutes  a  channel  for  the 
passage  of  His  bounties  that  those  bounties  do  not  en- 
rich and  beautify.  The  barren  moor  that  parts  before 
the  steel  of  the  mountain  brook  betrays  the  furrow  by 
a  fresher  green  and  rarer  flowers.  Noble  cities  and  all 
forms  of  beautiful  life  mirror  themselves  in  rivers  that 
become  highways  for  the  passage  of  commerce.  God 
gives  leaves  to  every  stalk  that  bears  juices  up  to  the 
growing  fruit,  and  presents  a  flower  in  advance  to 
every  twig  that  elaborates  a  seed.  The  sky  weaves 
radiant  garlands  for  itself  from  the  clouds  to  which 
it  gives  transportation.  So  every  man  who  becomes 
heartily  and  understandingly  a  channel  of  the  divine 
beneficence,  is  enriched  through  every  league  of  his 
life.  Perennial  satisfaction  springs  around  and  within 
him  with  perennial  verdure.  Flowers  of  gratitude  and 
gladness  bloom  all  along  his  pathway,  and  the  melodi- 
ous  gurgle  of  the  blessings  he  bears  is  echoed  back  by 
the  melodious  waves  of  the  recipient  stream. 

We  need  at  this  period  of  the  Christian  develop- 
ment a  more  thorough  recognition  of  the  great  truths 
I  have  endeavored  to  reveal.  Churches  are  crippled 


Almsgiving.  123 

with  debt,  or  languish  for  efficient  support.  Educa- 
tional institutions  are  begging  for  aid  to  enable  them 
to  meet  the  wants  of  the  time.  Missions  encroach  but 
feebly  upon  the  domains  of  superstition  and  ignorance. 
The  people  are  unsupplied  with  good  public  libraries. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  helpless  children  are  growing 
up  ignorant  and  vicious.  Sickness  and  want  are  ever- 
more around  us.  Need  in  a  thousand  forms  cries  for 
aid  by  a  thousand  voices ;  and  while  there  is  wealth 
enough  in  Christendom  to  satisfy  this  cry,  and  the  cry 
remains  unsatisfied,  there  will  remain  wrongfully  with- 
held from  ks  appropriate  use  the  wealth  God  has  sent 
to  satisfy  it.  So  open  your  hands,  ye  whose  hands  are 
full !  The  world  is  waiting  for  you  !  Heaven  is  wait- 
ing for  you !  The  whole  machinery  of  the  divine 
beneficence  is  clogged  by  your  hard  hearts  and  rigid 
fingers.  Give  and  spend,  and  be  sure  that  God  will 
send  ;  for  only  in  giving  and  spending  do  you  fulfil  the 
object  of  His  sending. 


XL 


THE  LOVE  OF  WHAT  IS  OURS. 

"There  is  one  good  wife  in  the  country,  and  every  man  thinks  he  hath 
her." 

"Every  bird  likes  its  own  nest  the  best" 

"  Every  man  thinks  that  his  own  geese  are  swans." 

WHEI^EVER  that  becomes  a  personal  posses- 
sion which  is  legitimately  an  object  of  love, 
and  which  involves  one's  character  for  good  taste, 
sound  judgment,  and  personal  power  or  prowess,  its 
value,  in  the  eye  and  heart  of  its  possessor,  is  raised 
above  the  estimate  and  appreciation  of  other  minds. 
If  we  select  a  horse  for  certain  points  of  organization, 
and  certain  characteristics  of  temper  and  training,  and 
purchase  him,  we  feel  that,  to  a  certain  extent,  that 
horse's  reputation  is  a  part  of  our  own.  We  identify 
ourselves  with  the  animal.  If  he  trot  a  mile  in  three 
minutes,  we  are  proud,  as  if  the  fact  were  in  some  way 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  125 

creditable  to  us.  If  he  can  travel  eighty  miles  in  a 
day,  and  continue  it,  we  feel  as  if  the  fact  were  a  com- 
pliment to  ourselves.  We  see  grandeur  in  the  carriage 
of  his  head,  and  grace  in  the  movements  of  his  limbs, 
that  no  one  else  sees.  So  we  look  over  our  dwelling, 
in  the  arrangement  and  furniture  of  which  we  have  ex- 
pressed our  best  ideas  of  home,  or  into  our  garden, 
which  is  as  we  made  it,  and  then*  harmony  and  beauty 
impress  us  as  they  impress  no  others.  Our  friends  pass 
both  without  a  thought,  perhaps,  or  they  give  them  a 
quiet  compliment  that  means  but  little.  Our  dog  may 
be  a  very  ugly  brute,  but  we  own  him,  and  do  not  like 
to  hear  his  ugliness  alluded  to.  We  are  complimented 
in  the  admiration  bestowed  upon  the  prints  and  paint- 
ings which  adorn  the  walls  of  our  parlors,  quite  as  much 
as  if  we  had  made  them  ourselves.  There  are  number- 
less beautiful  and  good  and  graceful  women  in  the 
world,  but  that  one  of  the  number  which  has  been  the 
subject  of  our  choice,  and  the  mother  of  our  children, 
is  a  little  better  than  any  other,  although,  for  reasons 
best  known  to  the  world,  we  may  not  be  the  objects  of 
any  man's  envy. 

So  it  is  that  each  man  has  bread  to  eat  that 
the  world  knows  not  of.  So  it  is  that  each  man  is 
richer  than  the  world  estimates  him  to  be.  There 
is  more  than  one  sense  in  which  no  man  makes  an 
honest  return  of  his  property  to  the  assessors  of 


126  Gold-Foil. 

taxes.  All  those  objects  of  possession  into  which  we 
have  cast  our  thought,  or  which  have  come  to  us  by  a 
purchase  involving  choice  and  the  exercise  of  taste  and 
judgment,  become  partakers  of  our  own  life — a  part  of 
ourselves  and  of  our  own  personal  value.  We  identify  all 
our  productions  with  ourselves.  We  have  a  private 
opinion  of  all  our  literary  children  that  no  one  else  en- 
tertains, particularly  if  they  are  abused.  Even  our 
opinions  upon  the  most  important  subjects  are  so  recog- 
nized by  us  as  a  personal  possession  that  we  cannot  sep- 
arate them  from  our  personality.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  political  and  religious  conflicts  are  so  bitter.  Men 
do  not  get  angry  because  an  opinion  is  attacked,  but 
because  they  feel  themselves  attacked  with  any  opinion 
which  they  hold.  Their  conscience,  judgment,  taste — 
every  thing  in  them  that  joined  in  the  formation  or 
choice  of  an  opinion — is  affronted  with  the  attack  upon 
the  opinion  itself.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  personalities  and  bitternesses  that  grow 
out  of  the  high  conflicts  of  opinion  in  the  world.  There 
is  nothing  to  quarrel  over  and  get  excited  about  in  an 
opinion,  any  more  than  in  a  potato,  if  it  do  not  happen 
to  belong  to  us.  It  is  amusing  to  see  the  indifference 
with  which  a  man  will  regard  a  public  attack  on  an 
opinion  which  he  has  not  accepted,  and  the  excitement 
he  will  manifest  when  some  cherished  notion  of  his  own 
is  assailed. 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  127 


Now,  when  I  find  a  law  like  this  running  through 
all  mankind — a  law  which  has  none  but  good  effects 
when  held  within  legitimate  limits  of  operation — I 
know  that  it  means  something.  Such  laws  arc  never 
instituted  for  nothing.  God's  benevolence  is  in  them 
somewhere — that  we  may  be  sure  of — and  it  becomes 
our  pleasant  task  to  find  it. 

The  first  benevolent  design  that  shows  itself  to  us 
in  this  law  and  its  operation  is  that  of  making  men  con- 
tented and  happy.  If  each  man  feel  that  he  has  got 
the  best  wife  in  the  world,  the  brightest  and  prettiest 
children,  the  finest  horse,  the  cleverest  dog,  the  most 
convenient  and  tasteful  home,  the  soundest  opinions  in 
politics  and  religion — that  all  which  he  possesses  has 
advantages  apparent  enough  to  himself  over  the  posses- 
sions of  his  neighbors — it  is  that  he  may  be  happy  and 
contented  in  them.  Every  man  may  see  in  the  peculiar 
pleasures  which  he  derives  from  his  possessions  a  pro- 
vision of  God  for  his  special  individuality — things  in  na- 
ture and  art  that  answer  with  single  and  special  intent 
to  his  judgment  and  taste,  and  the  peculiar  wants  of 
his  nature.  The  value  that  he  places  upon  these  things 
is  not  fictitious.  They  hold  relations  to  him — to  his 
nature  and  his  wants — that  they  hold  to  no  one  else, 
and  that  no  other  things  hold  to  him.  They  are,  then, 
in  a  sense,  a  part  of  him.  His  life  passes  into  them, 
and  they  pass  into  his  life.  He  is  identified  with  them, 


126  Gold-Foil. 

taxes.  All  those  objects  of  possession  into  which  wo 
have  cast  our  thought,  or  which  have  come  to  us  by  a 
purchase  involving  choice  and  the  exercise  of  taste  and 
judgment,  become  partakers  of  our  own  life — a  part  of 
ourselves  and  of  our  own  personal  value.  We  identify  all 
our  productions  with  ourselves.  We  have  a  private 
opinion  of  all  our  literary  children  that  no  one  else  en- 
tertains, particularly  if  they  are  abused.  Even  our 
opinions  upon  the  most  important  subjects  are  so  recog- 
nized by  us  as  a  personal  possession  that  we  cannot  sep- 
arate them  from  our  personality.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  political  and  religious  conflicts  are  so  bitter.  Men 
do  not  get  angry  because  an  opinion  Is  attacked,  but 
because  they  feel  themselves  attacked  with  any  opinion 
which  they  hold.  Their  conscience,  judgment,  taste — 
every  thing  in  them  that  joined  in  the  formation  or 
choice  of  an  opinion — is  affronted  with  the  attack  upon 
the  opinion  itself.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  personalities  and  bitternesses  that  grow 
out  of  the  high  conflicts  of  opinion  in  the  world.  There 
is  nothing  to  quarrel  over  and  get  excited  about  in  an 
opinion,  any  more  than  in  a  potato,  if  it  do  not  happen 
to  belong  to  us.  It  is  amusing  to  see  the  indifference 
with  which  a  man  will  regard  a  public  attack  on  an 
opinion  which  he  has  not  accepted,  and  the  excitement 
he  will  manifest  when  some  cherished  notion  of  his  own 
is  assailed. 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  127 


Now,  when  I  find  a  law  like  this  running  through 
all  mankind — a  law  which  has  none  but  good  effects 
when  held  within  legitimate  limits  of  operation — I 
know  that  it  means  something.  Such  laws  are  never 
instituted  for  nothing.  God's  benevolence  is  in  them 
somewhere — that  we  may  be  sure  of — and  it  becomes 
our  pleasant  task  to  find  it. 

The  first  benevolent  design  that  shows  itself  to  us 
hi  this  law  and  its  operation  is  that  of  making  men  con- 
tented and  happy.  If  each  man  feel  that  he  has  got 
the  best  wife  in  the  world,  the  brightest  and  prettiest 
children,  the  finest  horse,  the  cleverest  dog,  the  most 
convenient  and  tasteful  home,  the  soundest  opinions  in 
politics  and  religion — that  ah1  which  he  possesses  has 
advantages  apparent  enough  to  himself  over  the  posses- 
sions of  his  neighbors — it  is  that  he  may  be  happy  and 
contented  in  them.  Every  man  may  see  in  the  peculiar 
pleasures  which  he  derives  from  his  possessions  a  pro- 
vision of  God  for  his  special  individuality — things  in  na- 
ture and  art  that  answer  with  single  and  special  intent 
to  his  judgment  and  taste,  and  the  peculiar  wants  of 
his  nature.  The  value  that  he  places  upon  these  things 
is  not  fictitious.  They  hold  relations  to  him — to  his 
nature  and  his  wants — that  they  hold  to  no  one  else, 
and  that  no  other  things  hold  to  him.  They  are,  then, 
in  a  sense,  a  part  of  him.  His  life  passes  into  them, 
and  they  pass  into  his  life.  He  is  identified  with  them, 


130  Gold-Foil. 

bier  issues,  another  benevolent  intent  reveals  itself  as 
an  end  of  this  law.  We  dwell  now  among  opinions, 
dogmas,  creeds,  institutions,  conventionalisms,  and  as 
these  lie  nearest  our  life,  we  identify  ourselves  with 
them.  We  fight  for  them  when  they  are  assailed,  and 
we  are  wounded  in  their  destruction.  To  us  they  are, 
in  certain  aspects,  the  representatives  of  the  will  and 
way,  the  law  and  life  of  God ;  and  it  is  only  in  moments 
of  inspiration  or  exaltation  that  we  are  able  to  pass 
through,  or  by,  these  representatives,  and  grasp  the 
great  realities  between  which  and  our  weak  minds 
they  mediate.  When  the  soul  can  lay  its  hand  on  truth 
itself,  and  appropriate  it ;  when  it  can  say  "  my  Lord 
and  my  God ; "  when  it  can  enter  sympathetically,  with 
a  rapt  appreciation  of  the  greatness  and  glory  of  its 
birthright,  into  the  brotherhood  of  all  pure  intelli- 
gences ;  when,  answering  to  the  thrill  of  the  blood  of 
the  Godhead  in  its  veins,  it  can  say  "  My  Father ;" 
when,  with  an  imagination  that  ranges  the  glories  of 
the  universe,  it  apprehends  an  infinite  kingdom,  and 
sees  itself  a  prince  of  the  reigning  house,  and  feels  it- 
self at  home,  ah !  then  it  learns,  or  begins  to  learn, 
something  of  a  law  which,  beginning  like  a  rill  in  its 
humbler  experiences,  spreads  into  a  river,  that  sweeps 
it  into  the  ocean  of  identity  with  God  Himself. 

This  is  what  the  world,  and  especially  the  Christian 
world,  wants  to-day.    It  identifies  itself  with  the  shell 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  131 

of  religion,  while  it  needs  identification  with  the  truth, 
with  God  and  His  life,  with  all  the  things  of  God.  It 
needs  to  recognize  all  truth  as  its  property,  God  and 
His  life  as  its  property,  and  all  the  things  of  God  as  its 
property ;  and  so  to  identify  itself  with  this  property 
that  it  shall  feel  its  honor,  its  name,  its  all,  bound  to  it 
— indissolubly  connected  with  it.  It  was  out  of  this 
thorough  identification  of  the  soul  with  God  that  came 
those  pregnant  words :  "  Do  not  I  hate  them  that  hate 
thee  ?  "  It  is  refreshing,  in  such  a  time  as  this,  to  look 
back  upon  the  histories  of  the  ancient  saints,  and  see 
how  closely  they  stood  by  the  side  of  God,  and  bound 
their  own  personal  honor  to  his  throne.  God  was  their 
God ;  His  truth  was  their  truth ;  His  honor  was  their 
honor ;  and  any  attack  made  upon  Him,  His  character, 
His  truth,  or  His  honor,  was  received  as  an  attack  upon 
themselves.  "We  fight  for  our  opinions,  for  our  sect, 
for  our  church,  for  our  institutions ;  they  fought  for 
Him  and  for  His  truth — for  that  which  only  gives  sig- 
nificance and  value  to  any  institution  of  man.  Oh ! 
how  far,  how  very  far,  are  we  from  any  just  apprecia- 
tion of  the  infinite  wealth  upon  which  we  may  legiti- 
mately lay  our  hand,  as  our  own  property !  We  stand 
and  hear  the  name  of  God  blasphemed  with  a  lighter 
shock  and  a  smaller  draft  on  personal  feeling  than  wo 
experience  when  we  hear  a  pet  dogma  denounced,  and 
this  simply  and  alone  because  we  identify  ourselves 


132  Gold-Foil. 

with  the  dogma,  as  our  possession,  more  than  we  do 
with  the  Deity. 

I  can  conceive  of  no  reason,  and  I  believe  there  is 
no  reason,  why  God  and  Heaven,  and  the  brotherhood 
of  angels,  seem  so  remote  from  those  who  believe 
themselves  to  be  the  sons  and  daughters  of  God,  save 
in  the  fact  that  they  have  no  recognized  property  or 
interest  in  them.  The  moment  that  these  beings  and 
things  come  into  relation  with  a  soul  in  any  important 
sense  as  possessions,  that  soul  will  identify  itself  with 
them.  "When  a  soul  approaches  God  as  its  Father, 
Heaven  as  its  home,  and  all  pure  spirits  as  a  portion  of 
a  family  in  which  it  rightfully  holds  a  place,  its  interest 
and  sympathy  and  honor  are  linked  to  them  by  a  tie 
which  cannot  be  dissolved.  They  enter  into  vital  rela- 
tions with  its  life.  They  enter  into  and  become  a  part 
of  its  life.  Its  destiny  is  hung  upon  them.  In  short, 
it  is  identified  with  them  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  be 
wounded  the  most  keenly  and  honored  the  most  grate- 
fully through  them. 

Again,  the  benevolence  of  this  law,  by  which  we 
identify  ourselves  with  the  things  which  we  love  as 
possessions,  is  manifested  by  the  influence  they  are 
thus  brought  to  bear  upon  our  character.  A  man 
whose  most  highly  valued  possession  is  a  horse,  will  so 
identify  himself  with  his  possession  that  he  will  rise  no 
higher  in  the  scale  of  dignity  than  his  horse.  His 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  ]  33 

horse  and  those  who  are  identified  with  a  similar  pos- 
session will  be  the  best  society  he  has.  He  will  enjoy 
no  other.  All  his  talk  will  be  horse-talk.  That  which 
holds  the  most  intimate  relation  to  his  life  will  deter- 
mine that  life's  development  and  character.  Any  stu- 
dent of  human  nature  understands  this.  The  class  of 
what  are  strictly  horse-men  is  just  as  distinctly  marked 
a  class  as  can  be  found ;  and  its  characteristics  are  de- 
termined by  their  identification  with  the  animal  to 
which  they  are  devoted.  The  benevolence  of  the  op- 
eration of  this  law  may  not  be  so  apparent  in  this,  but 
the  operation  itself  is  illustrated  with  peculiar  force. 
As  we  pass  on,  however,  to  the  consideration  of  the 
influence  of  higher  possessions,  we  find  the  benevolence 
for  which  we  seek. 

Let  God  be  apprehended  by  the  soul  as  its  own 
Father,  and  all  truth  as  its  own  wealth,  and  all  the  uni- 
verse as  its  own  home — the  domain  of  its  Father — and 
all  pure  intelligences  as  its  brethren ;  let  all  these  come 
into  the  soul  as  possessions — as  beings  and  things  in 
which  abide  its  rights  and  privileges — so  that  it  identi- 
fies itself  with  them  for  time  and  eternity,  and  in  the 
place  of  horse-men  we  have  divine-men.  There  is  no 
dignity  in  all  God's  world  like  this.  It  raises  man 
above  all  the  distinctions  of  wealth,  above  all  titles,  and 
above  ah"  earthly  dignities  whatsoever.  It  places  a 
man  where  he  can  look  up  with  a  pure  adoration,  and 


134  Gold-Foil. 

down  with  a  true  charity.  It  releases  him  from  bond- 
age to  creeds,  and  formularies  of  worship,  and  prescrip- 
tive lines  of  duty,  and  introduces  him  into  the  freedom 
of  the  sons  of  God.  He  is  no  more  an  alien — an  out- 
sider— a  slave  spurred  to  the  performance  of  his  task — 
for  God's  life  is  in  him  as  a  possession,  and  that  life  is 
its  own  law.  He  holds  the  hands  of  angels  in  his  own. 
He  lives  in  truth,  and  truth  lives  in  'him.  He  walks 
the  world  a  prince,  knowing  and  feeling  that  he  is  an 
heir  of  God — a  joint  heir  with  Jesus  Christ.  I  can 
conceive  of  no  dignity  like  this ;  and  when  I  see  the  great 
world  of  mankind  identifying  itself  so  exclusively  with 
its  meaner  possessions,  content  with  the  dignity  which 
they  confer,  I  see  how  exceedingly  wide  the  gap  is  which 
divides  the  present  time  from  the  promised  millennium. 
Where  the  treasure  is,  there  will  the  heart  be  also 
— the  heart  with  all  its  manifestations  of  love,  devo- 
tion, charity,  and  honor.  I  know  of  no  good  reason 
why  the  earth  should  differ  essentially  from  heaven — 
why  men  may  not  so  identify  themselves  with  their 
highest  treasures  here  that  they  will  partake  of  the 
home  feeling  of  those  who  walk  in  white  upon  the 
banks  of  the  river  of  life — why  they  may  not  feel  with 
relation  to  God  and  that  which  is  most  precious  to 
Hun — His  children,  His  realm,  His  heaven — as  they  do 
toward  their  earthly  father,  the  paternal  mansion,  and 
the  brothers  and  sisters  that  cluster  there. 


The  Love  of  what  is  ours.  135 

Give  us  an  age  of  gallant,  chivalrous  Christianity — 
of  men  who  maintain  the  honor  of  their  Father's  house. 
Give  us  an  age  that  shall  enlist  the  respect  of  all  who 
respect  earnestness  and  honor.  Give  us  an  age  that 
shall  appreciate  that  which  it  is  fighting  for,  and  will 
not  crawl  before  the  inferior  and  infernal  powers  that 
make  war  upon  the  throne.  Give  us  an  age  in  which 
Christians  will  fight  for  and  stand  by  one  another,  and 
not  fight  against  one  another.  Give  us  an  age  in 
which  Christian  manhood  shall  assert  itself  as  the  high- 
est earthly  thing  and  the  noblest  earthly  estate.  Give 
us  an  age  that,  instead  of  whining  and  groaning  under 
the  truth,  shall  rejoice  in  the  truth.  Give  us  an  age 
which,  lifted  into  identity  with  its  highest  possessions, 
shall  be  made  by  those  possessions  patient,  pure,  heroic, 
and  honorable.  Give  us  the  blessed  thousand  years ! 


xn. 

THE  POWER  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

"  The  straightcst  stick  is  crooked  in  water." 

"  Opportunity  makes  the  thief." 

"The  orange  that  is  too  hard  squeezed  yields  a  bitter  juice." 

"  Circumstances  alter  cases." 

IN  making  up  our  judgments  upon  men  and  women 
who  have  fallen  from  their  integrity,  we  fail  to 
consider  sufficiently  the  circumstances  in  which  their 
fall  occurred.  While  these  may  never  justify  the  lapse 
which  they  occasioned,  they  furnish  abundant  basis  for 
the  compassionate  and  charitable  judgment  of  all  who, 
like  them,  are  subject  to  temptation,  and  liable  to  cir- 
cumstances that  weaken  the  soul  in  its  power  of  re- 
sistance. The  straightest  stick  is  crooked  in  water, 
and  the  most  upright  character  bends,  even  if  it  do  not 
break,  when  subjected  to  a  great  temptation,  in  cir- 
cumstances that  favor  the  wrong  and  tend  to  paralyze 
the  power  to  withstand  it.  Before  God,  he  or  she  who 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         137 

falls  is  guilty ;  but  their  fellows  should  be  the  last  to 
point  the  finger  of  contempt,  or  indulge  in  self-right- 
eous gratulations  that  they  are  not  fallen  also.  It  may 
reasonably  be  doubted  whether,  if  there  were  to  be  a 
universal  exchange  of  individualities  in  the  world,  the 
amount  of  sin  would  be  sensibly  diminished.  In  other 
words,  if  you,  or  I,  had  been  subjected  to  the  same 
temptations,  under  the  same  circumstances,  that  re- 
sulted in  the  sending  of  our  old  acquaintance  to  the 
state-prison  for  forgery,  the  probabilities  are  that  we 
should  to-day  be  dressing  stone  for  the  public  good. 
If  your  daughter  or  mine  had  been  exposed  to  the 
wiles  of  a  villain,  under  the  circumstances  which  sur- 
rounded our  neighbor's  daughter  when  she  fell,  and 
that  neighbor's  daughter  had  been  in  the  place  of  ours, 
the  probabilities  are  that  our  daughter  would  be  lost 
to  us  and  a  true  life,  and  that  our  neighbor's  daughter 
would  be  safe.  Our  business,  then,  is  to  thank  God 
for  the  circumstances  which  have  favored  us,  to  pity 
those  who  have  not  been  thus  favored,  and  to  be  very 
careful  of  our  censure. 

To  a  greater  extent  than  the  most  of  us  imagine, 
the  wrongs,  sins  and  errors  of  the  age  were  born  of^ 
and  have  been  perpetuated  by,  circumstances.  We 
are  accustomed  to  inveigh  against  slavery.  We  de- 
nounce it  as  a  high  crime  in  those  who  sustain  it,  and  a 
curse  to  all  the  parties  concerned  in  it.  We  wonder 


138  Gold-Foil. 

why  anybody  can  regard  it  in  any  different  light.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  upholders  of  slavery  regard  it  as  a 
divine  institution,  beneficial  to  the  blacks  and  to  them- 
selves, and  hold  its  opponents  to  be  fanatics,  hypocrites, 
disorganizes,  and  inexpressibly  contemptible  men.  To 
make  both  parties  feel  more  kindly  toward  each  other, 
it  ought  to  be  only  necessary  for  them  to  remember 
that,  had  they  exchanged  dwelling-places  and  circum- 
stances at  their  birth,  they  would  have  exchanged 
sentiments  and  opinions.  Our  craziest  abolitionists 
would,  from  their  natural  temperament,  have  been  in 
Charleston  the  craziest  fire-caters,  and  the  most  zealous 
advocate  of  slavery  would  at  the  North  have  been  the 
principal  speaker  at  the  Syracuse  conventions.  If 
Wendell  Phillips  and  Lloyd  Garrison  had  been  bom  in 
New  Orleans,  to  an  inheritance  of  three  hundred  slaves 
apiece,  and  Robert  Toombs  and  Alexander  Stevens 
had  grown  up  under  the  shadow  of  Bunker  Hill,  they 
would  have  been  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other 
as  they  are  to-day.  It  is  the  most  senseless  thing  in 
the  world  for  these  parties  to  feel  unkindly  towards 
each  other.  Each  may  struggle  strenuously  for  the 
maintenance  of  his  own  ideas  of  the  right,  but  both 
should  always  remember  that  it  is  from  no  merit  or 
demerit  of  theirs  that  they  differ.  Circumstances,  in 
ninety-nine  cases  in  a  hundred,  make  both  the  oppo- 
nents and  the  defenders  of  slavery. 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         139 

Thus  it  is  in  the  matter  of  religion.  The  Catholic 
regards  the  Protestant  as  no  Christian,  and  the  Protes- 
tant regards  the  Catholic  as  the  upholder  of  the  gross- 
est errors.  Each  class  regards  the  other  with  con- 
tempt, and  wonders  how  it  can  embrace  a  system 
which  it  deems  utterly  illegitimate  and  fatally  danger- 
ous. What  makes  them  difier?  Circumstances,  not 
choice.  England  and  Iceland  sit  side  by  side,  subjects 
of  the  same  Queen.  The  English,  born  of  Protestant 
parents,  are  Protestants.  The  Irish,  born  of  Catholic 
parents,  are  Catholics.  They  stand  in  the  relation  of 
religious  enemies,  and  talk  about  each  other  as  bitterly 
as  if  they  had  really  had  something  to  do  in  making 
themselves  what  they  respectively  are,  when,  in  ninety- 
nine  cases  in  a  hundred,  they  have  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it  whatever.  The  circumstances  in  which  they 
were  born  and  bred  have  made  them  what  they  are. 
The  Catholics  emigrate  to  this  Protestant  country. 
We  regard  them  as  misled  in  the  main,  and  intention- 
ally misleading  in  the  exceptions.  We  wonder  how 
they  can  pin  their  faith  to  their  church  in  the  way  they 
do.  Yet  circumstances,  over  which  they  had  no  con- 
trol, led  them  naturally  into  the  Catholic  church — cir- 
cumstances gave  them  Catholic  parentage,  and  sur- 
rounded them  with  Catholic  influences.  No  Protes- 
tant can  reasonably  doubt  that  had  he  been  born  and 
reared  under  the  same  circumstances,  he  would  now 


140  Gold-Foil. 

be  a  Catholic ;  and  there  are  probably  not  ten  in  a 
thousand  Catholics  who  would  not  be  Protestants  had 
they  been  born  and  bred  under  Protestant  influences. 
Now,  while  this  fact  should  make  no  difference  in  the 
estimation  in  which  each  holds  the  other's  system  of 
religion,  it  should  dispossess  them  at  once  and  forever 
of  all  bitterness  of  feeling  toward  each  other,  and  of 
the  self-righteous  assumption  of  superiority. 

It  would  be  relevant  to  allude  to  political  parties  in 
this  connection,  but  it  is  not  necessary.  The  same  fact 
holds  good,  in  a  general  way,  with  relation  to  all  the 
great  subjects  that  divide  men  into  opposing  masses. 
It  may  be  well,  however,  to  say  that  in  the  matter  of 
social  position,  so  far,  at  least,  as  it  is  based  in  birth, 
there  is  no  cause  of  glorying  on  the  part  of  any  man. 
Two  children  play  together,  and  grow  up  together. 
One  is  the  offspring  of  a  man  of  wealth  and  high  social 
standing.  The  other  is  the  son  or  daughter  of  a  la- 
borer, poor,  and,  perhaps,  ignorant.  One  of  these  chil- 
dren comes  in  time  to  look  down  upon  his  humble 
neighbor,  and  the  other  is  brought  to  feel,  sooner  or 
later,  that  he  is  proscribed.  What  makes  these  chil- 
dren to  differ  ?  Nothing  but  circumstances,  over 
which  neither  had  a  particle  of  control,  yet  one  of  them 
gets  proud  in  his  adventitious  position — proud  of  his 
circumstances.  Circumstances,  ordered  by  Providence, 
doubtless,  grade  society  through  all  the  steps  that 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         141 

reach  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  it.  This  fact  may 
be  recognized — all  the  classes  of  society  may  be  recog- 
nized— and  yet  between  each  class  there  cannot  legiti- 
mately be  a  particle  of  bitterness,  of  envy,  of  jealousy 
or  of  pride. 

Again,  to  leave  this  class  of  generalizations,  let  us 
instance  a  lad  hi  the  city  born  of  drunken  parents,  and 
trained  to  familiarity  with  the  observation  and  the 
practice  of  vice  from  the  earliest  conscious  moment  of 
his  life.  He  is  a  beggar  at  six,  a  thief  at  ten,  a  drunk- 
ard at  twelve,  a  libertine  at  sixteen,  and  a  murderer  at 
twenty.  Another  lad  is  born  in  a  quiet  country  home, 
with  a  Christian  father  and  mother.  His  who!e  training 
is  in  the  direction  of  virtue.  As  soon  as  he  can  speak, 
he  is  taught  to  pray.  He  is  carefully  guarded  from  all 
vicious  influences,  educated  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  pure 
and  self-sacrificing  love,  becomes  the  possessor  of  a  lofty 
Christian  purpose,  and,  at  thirty,  finds  himself  by  the 
side  of  the  poor  convict  boy  of  the  city,  endeavoring 
to  prepare  him  for  the  change  of  worlds  which  will 
come  with  his  execution.  What  makes  the  lives  of 
these  two  men  differ  so  widely  ?  What,  but  circum- 
stances ?  I  do  not  say  that  this  city  boy  is,  in  his  his- 
tory, the  representative  of  all  the  vicious  men  and 
women  in  the  world,  but  he  is,  in  many  respects,  the 
representative  of  the  larger  part  of  them,  as  the  coun- 
try boy  is  the  representative  of  the  larger  part  of  the 


142  Gold-Foil. 

virtuous.  How  ought  this  fact  to  open  wide  the  arms 
of  our  pity  and  our  charity  towards  those  whose  steps 
are  bent  toward  ruin !  How  inconsiderate  is  that  self- 
righteous  contempt  and  abhorrence  with  which  a  vir- 
tuous world  regards  those  who  only  needed  favoring 
circumstances  to  make  them  pure  and  worthy  as 
itself. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  great  brotherhood  and  sister- 
hood of  sin  groan  under  the  uncharitable  judgments  of 
those  who,  but  for  circumstances  interposed  by  other 
power  than  their  own,  would  have  been  among  their 
number.  These  judgments  may  not  be  unjust,  but  they 
are  uncalled  for.  They  may  be  just,  coming  from  Him 
who  sees  the  heart,  but  they  are  illegitimate,  proceed- 
ing from  those  whom  kinder  circumstances  have  aided 
to  preserve.  I  say  they  groan  under  these  judgments. 
They  feel  bitterly  in  regard  to  them,  and  they  will  ac- 
cept no  beneficent  ministry  at  the  hands  of  the  good 
until  they  receive  the  sympathy  to  which  they  believe 
themselves  entitled.  Any  man  who  approaches  this 
class  in  an  attempt  do  them  good,  with  censure  on  his 
ips,  and  the  assumption  of  a  self-won  and  self-preserved 
righteousness  in  his  bearing,  will  find,  to  the  cost  of  his 
mission,  that  every  heart  is  closed  against  him.  There 
is  a  basis  of  brotherhood  and  tender  sympathy  in  this 
connection  of  circumstances  with  the  development  of 
character  and  life,  and  on  this  basis  every  man  must 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         143 

stand  who  would  raise  the  fallen,  strengthen  the  weak, 
and  reclaim  the  erring. 

Leaving  classes,  we  come  to  individuals.  The 
orange  that  is  too  hard  squeezed  yields  a  bitter  juice 
Here  and  there,  in  the  path  of  our  observation,  we  see 
men  and  women  who,  having  lived  good  and  reputable 
lives,  yield  to  some  sudden  and  overwhelming  tempta- 
tion, and  fall  with  a  crash  that  startles  our  hearts  with 
terror.  Some  man  whom,  through  a  life  of  strict  in- 
tegrity, we  have  regarded  as  a  model  of  honor  and 
honesty,  suddenly  stands  before  the  world  condemned 
as  a  defaulter,  a  swindler,  a  forger.  Did  it  ever  occur 
to  you  to  stop  for  a  moment,  and  think  what  a  band  of 
circumstances  must  have  conspired  against,  and  what 
temptations  must  have  assailed  him,  even  to  lead  him 
one  step  towards  the  resistance  of  conscience,  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  peace  of  mind,  the  forfeiture  of  his  good 
name,  and  the  danger  of  the  surrender  of  his  personal 
freedom  ?  Did  you  ever  pause  in  your  judgment,  and 
attempt  to  measure  the  solitary,  secret,  hand-to-hand 
conflict  with  the  devil  by  which  he  was  at  last  dis- 
armed, baffled,  and  ruined  ?  Did  you  ever  attempt  to 
realize  the  fact,  that  if  you  had  been  in  his  place  you 
might  have  fallen  like  him  ?  Do  you  sit  coldly  above 
the  fallen  man,  and,  with  the  unthinking  world,  con- 
demn him  ?  All !  pity  him ;  pity  him.  Pray  that  you 
enter  not  into  temptation,  and,  while  you  hold  his  sin 


144  Gold-Foil. 

in  horror,  remember  that  kinder  circumstances  and 
smaller  temptations  have  probably  saved  you  from  his 
fate. 

Some  gentle  girl,  full  of  all  sweet  hopes  and  bright 
with  innocent  beauty,  gives  her  heart  to  one  who  is 
unworthy  of  her.  She  yields  him  her  faith  to  be  be- 
trayed, her  love  to  be  abused,  her  trust  to  be  deceived. 
Enslaved  by  circumstances,  shorn  of  will  by  the  bund 
devotion  of  her  passion,  ensnared  by  the  toils  of  one 
whom  she  believes  incapable  of  wilful  wrong,  she  wakes 
from  her  mad  dream  a  ruined  woman.  What  have  you 
to  say  to  her,  or  to  say  about  her  ?  God  forgive  you,  if 
you,  man  or  woman,  can  stand  over  the  prostrate  crea- 
ture from  whom  hope  has  departed,  and  breathe  into  her 
ears  words  of  condemnation  and  scorn!  Why  are 
you,  woman,  who  read  these  words,  better  than  she  ? 
Madame,  Maiden,  the  straightest  stick  is  crooked  in 
water.  Condemn  her  sin  if  you  will,  hold  it  in  abhor- 
rence as  you  must ;  but  when,  with  beseeching  look, 
she  comes  into  your  presence,  her  self-righteous  ac- 
cusers around  her,  remember  how  the  Christ  that  is  in 
you  impels  you  to  delay  judgment,  and,  while  revolving 
the  pitiful  circumstances  of  her  fall,  to  stoop  humbly 
and  write  that  judgment  in  the  sand. 

The  track,  upon  which  the  train  of  human  reforma- 
tion runs,  is  laid  in  sympathy,  and  this  sympathy  car 
never  be  established  so  long  as  there  exists  in  the  heart 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         145 

of  virtue  the  same  feeling  of  hatred  towards  the  sinner 
that  is  felt  towards  the  sin.  The  world  will  accept  and 
can  have  no  Saviour  who  has  not  been  tempted  and 
been  surrounded  with  circumstances  that  exhibited  to 
him  the  measure  of  human  weakness.  A  being  must 
be  tempted  "  hi  all  points  like  as  we  are "  before  we 
can  give  him  our  hand  to  be  led  up  higher.  The  soul 
that  does  not  appreciate  the  power  of  temptation  has 
no  mission  to  the  tempted.  It  is  a  law  of  the  heart 
that  it  will  not  accept  the  ministry  of  natures  that  have 
no  sympathy  with  it.  Go  the  world  over,  and  select 
those  preachers  who  have  the  greatest  power  over  men 
— power  to  move  them  in  high  directions,  and  .power 
to  attract  them  with  strong  and  tender  aflections — and 
they  will,  without  exception,  be  found  to  be  those  who 
betray  hearts  and  experiences  that  show  that  they  are 
sympathetic  with  the  tempted.  The  exceedingly  proper 
young  men  who  graduate  from  the  theological  institu- 
tions, in  white  cravats  and  white  complexions,  are  men 
who  have  little  power  in  the  world,  as  a  general  thing. 
The  world  knows  at  once  that  such  men  know  nothing 
of  its  heart ;  but  when  it  finds  an  earnest,  Christian 
worker,  who  has  passed  through  the  fire,  and  exhibits 
the  possession  of  what  we  are  wont  to  call  "  human 
nature,"  it  turns  to  him  with  the  feeling  that  he  has  a 
right  to  teach  it. 

There  are  a  great  many  brotherhoods  in  the  world, 


146  Gold-Foil. 

but  none  so  large  as  the  brotherhood  of  temptation  and 
untoward  circumstance.  A  race  of  beings  find  them- 
selves  in  the  world  without  any  act  of  their  own,  in 
circumstances  not  of  their  own  choosing — some  better, 
some  worse — and  all  the  subjects  of  temptation.  The 
riddle  of  life  is  unsolved.  The  meaning  of  their  rela- 
tions to  that  which  tends  to  degrade  them  is  not  com- 
prehended. Now  the  situation  of  this  race  is,  to  me,  one 
of  touching  and  profound  interest.  With  a  God  over 
its  head  and  a  law  in  its  heart  that  hold  it  to  accounta- 
bility, and  with  appetites  and  passions  within,  and  cir- 
cumstances and  temptations  without,  urging,  coaxing, 
driving  it  to  transgression — what  a  spectacle  is  this  for 
angels  and  for  God !  Yet  here  we  all  are,  struggling, 
toiling,  falling,  rising,  hoping,  despairing.  Now,  if  this 
great  fact,  of  common  subjection  to  evil  influence  do 
not  give  us  a  basis  for  a  common  sympathy,  I  do  not 
know  what  other  fact  in  God's  world  does.  Doubtless 
the  brotherhood  of  true  Christianity  is  a  purer  tie  than 
this,  but  it  is  less  a  human  tie  and  more  a  divine. 
Doubtless  the  love  proceeding  out  of  a  pure  Christian 
spirit  is  a  stronger  motive  of  labor  for  the  elevation  of 
men  than  this  sympathy,  but  uncoupled  with  it,  it  can 
accomplish  but  little.  This  brotherhood  is  first  to  be 
recognized ;  this  sympathy  is  first  to  be  felt,  before  a 
Christian  purpose  with  relation  to  the  race  can  be  in- 
dulged with  any  practical  effect  for  good. 


The  Power  of  Circumstances.         147 

I  stand  by  my  kind;  and  I  thank  God  for  the 
temptations  that  have  brought  me  into  sympathy  with 
them,  as  I  do  for  the  love  that  urges  me  to  efforts  for 
their  good.  I  hail  the  great  brotherhood  of  trial  and 
temptation  in  the  name  of  humanity,  and  give  them  as- 
surance that  from  the  Divine  Man,  and  some,  at  least, 
of  his  disciples,  there  goes  out  to  them  a  flood  of  sym- 
pathy that  would  fain  sweep  them  up  to  the  firm  foot- 
ing of  the  rock  of  safety.  I  assure  them  that  there  are 
hearts  that  consider  while  they  condemn,  and  pity 
where  they  may  not  praise — that  there  are  those  even 
among  Christian  men  and  women,  who  feel  attracted 
toward  them  as  they  cannot  feel  attracted  toward  the 
self-righteous  and  uncharitable  men  and  women  who 
have  named  the  name  Ineffable,  and  claim  a  place  upon 
the  rolls  of  the  redeemed.  I  can  never  fail  to  remem- 
ber that  whatever  I  possess  of  good,  of  light,  of  liberty, 
of  love,  has  come  to  me  mainly  on  the  wings  of  circum- 
stances, and  that  a  greater  portion  of  the  evil,  the  ig- 
norance, the  bondage  and  the  hate  that  I  see  all  around 
me  was  borne  to  those  who  hold  and  exhibit  them, 
by  the  same  purveyors.  I  come  not  between  God's 
law  and  man's  accountability,  but  I  take  the  great  fact 
as  I  find  it,  that  life,  in  the  main,  follows  the  line  of  its 
original  lot,  as  a  basis  of  sympathy  on  which  I  stand 
with  one  hand  in  the  hand  of  all  humanity,  and  the 
other  pointing  hopefully  toward  the  stars. 


xm. 

ANVILS  AND  HAMMERS. 

"  When  you  are  an  anvil,  bear ;  when  yon  are  a  hammer,  strike." 
"  There  is  never  wanting  a  dog  to  bark  at  you." 
"  An  honest  man  is  not  the  worse  because  a  dog  barks  at  him." 
"  He  laughs  best  who  laughs  last." 

EVERY  man  in  the  world  who  gives  blows  must 
take  blows.  Every  man  who  occupies  the  posi- 
tion of  a  positive  force,  bearing  upon  the  thought  and 
life  of  the  world,  is  a  hammer  that,  more  or  less,  must 
submit  itself  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  office  of  an  anvil. 
Those  whom  he  assails,  or  the  supporters  of  that  which 
he  assails,  will  turn  up  his  face,  and  undertake  to 
straighten  their  crooked  nails  on  it,  or  re-fasten  the 
rivets  of  their  broken  cisterns  on  it,  or  pound  the 
wrinkles  out  of  their  battered  opinions  on  it,  or  punish 
it  with  spiteful  indentations.  The  perfection  of  art 
with  such  a  man  is  to  strike  heartily  when  he  assumes 
the  office  of  a  hammer,  and  bear  bravely  when  he  is 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  149 


compelled  to  be  an  anvil.  Until  a  man  becomes  as 
good  an  anvil  as  he  is  a  hammer,  he  fails  to  be  thor- 
oughly fitted  for  his  work.  "What  an  indurate  old  an- 
vil Martin  Luther  was !  He  smote  errors  and  abuses 
and  sins  with  blows  that  sent  their  resonant  echoes 
through  all  the  centuries.  He  was  a  moral  sledge- 
hammer, assailing  a  system  that  shook  through  all  its 
rotten  timbers  ;  but  that  system  and  its  defenders  re- 
turned his  assaults,  and  tested  his  resistance  and  en- 
durance. The  diet  of  Worms  made  an  anvil  of  him ; 
and  the  kind  of  steel  he  had  in  him  was  manifested  in 
his  reply  to  the  friends  who  undertook  to  dissuade  him 
from  going  to  Worms  to  be  hammered :  "  Were  there 
as  many  devils  in  Worms  as  there  are  roof-tiles,  I  would 
on ! "  That  was  the  way  of  Luther,  the  anvil. 

The  hammer  and  the  anvil  are  the  two  hemispheres 
of  every  true  reformer's  character.  They  are,  in  fact, 
the  two  aspects  of  every  leader,  let  him  be  never  so 
high,  or  never  so  humble.  Every  man  who  strikes 
blows  for  power,  for  influence,  for  institutions,  for  the 
right,  must  be  just  as  good  an  anvil  as  he  is  a  hammer. 
If  he  is  not,  he  may  properly  conclude  that  he  has  no 
very  important  mission  in  the  improvement  and  pro- 
gress of  his  race.  If  private  and  instituted  sin,  error, 
prejudice  and  wrong  would  be  kind  enough  to  stand 
quietly,  and  let  us  batter  in  their  sides,  or  knock  them 
down,  reform  would  become  a  fine  art,  with  great  at- 


150  .      Gold-Foil. 

tractions  for  men  of  weak  constitutions  and  gentle 
pedigree ;  but  they  always  object  to  this  mode  of 
treatment ;  and  any  man  who  attacks  them  must  cal- 
culate on  his  power  of  resistance,  or  his  power  to  bear 
without  flinching  the  blows  he  will  receive  in  return. 
A  pugilist,  who  is  an  inferior  hammer,  not  unfrequently 
wins  a  fight,  in  consequence  of  being  a  superior  anvil. 
If  victory  were  always  with  the  hammer  the  French 
would  always  be  victorious;  but  the  anvil  won  at 
"Waterloo. 

But  the  blows  which  a  reformer  receives  in  direct 
response  to  his  own  are  not  always  the  hardest  things 
he  has  to  bear.  Many  become  so  hardened  to  these 
that  they  rather  enjoy  them.  Direct  and  powerful  op- 
position is  a  kind  of  compliment  to  the  assailing  power, 
and  demonstrates  fear,  or  the  consciousness  of  damage, 
on  the  part  of  the  assailed.  Every  system  and  institu- 
tion of  wrong,  error  and  sin  has  its  defenders ;  but,  be- 
yond these,  it  has  adherents  and  friends  in  multitudes, 
who,  being  unable  to  enter  the  lists  as  champions,  re- 
sort to  smaller  and  meaner  arts  of  enmity.  There  is 
never  wanting  any  number  of  dogs  to  bark  at  an  honest 
man.  Now  this  playing  the  part  of  an  anvil,  and  being 
the  object  of  the  vocal  demonstrations  of  a  popular 
quadruped,  are  two  very  different  things.  Many  a 
man  can  withstand  the  fiercest  blows  of  an  individual, 
who  will  shrink  from  the  barking  of  the  people.  Many 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  151 

a  man  can  give  blows  valiantly  and  receive  them  brave- 
ly, who  is  made  very  nervous  and  miserable  by  clamor 
about  his  heels,  and  spiteful  feints  at  the  terminal  por- 
tions of  his  pantaloons.  In  fact,  there  is  nothing  which 
a  true  man  cannot  bear,  provided  he  is  conscious  of 
possessing  the  sympathy  of  the  people. 

When  a  reformer  utterly  loses,  or  fails  to  gain,  the 
sympathy  of  the  people,  strong  indeed  must  be  his 
conviction,  profound  indeed  must  be  his  charity,  and 
vital  must  his  faith  and  purpose  be,  if  he  can  still  strike 
lustily  in  their  behalf.  Oh !  how  few  enter  upon  a 
career  of  reform,  in  whatever  department  of  life,  and 
come  out  of  it  uninjured !  How  few  are  able  to  battle 
through  a  lifetime  with  the  errors  and  sins  of  society, 
and  escape  unembittered  toward  those  whom  they 
have  endeavored  to  benefit !  How  few  can  close  a 
life  of  self-sacrifice, — misconstrued,  misrepresented  and 
abused, — with  the  immortal  word's,  welling  up  from  a 
heart  of  love  still  full  and  overflowing,  "  Father,  for- 
give them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  1 " 

I  suppose  that  indifference  to  direct  opposition  and 
popular  clamor,  even  if  in  some  sense  desirable,  is  im- 
possible in  a  nature  worthy  of  any  good  work.  Every 
man  who  becomes  the  subject  of  these  should,  how- 
ever, guard  himself  against  the  consequences  to  which 
I  have  alluded.  Every  man  should  guard  himself 
against  a  waning  faith  in  humanity.  Moral  forces 


152  Gold-Foil. 

move  slowly,  partly  from  their  nature  and  the  compli- 
cation of  their  processes,  and  partly  from  the  lack  of 
social  sympathy  among  the  masses  of  men.  The  most 
that  a  reformer  can  hope  to  do  in  his  short  life  is  to 
introduce  a  leaven  into  society  which  shah1  at  length 
work  the  elevation  he  desires  to  effect.  He  can  rarely 
move  masses  to  his  will  by  the  immediate  exercise  of 
power,  because  there  are,  in  sympathy,  no  such  things 
as  masses  of  men.  There  are  loosely  bound  aggrega- 
tions of  individualities,  but  no  masses  through  which 
runs  so  thorough  a  sympathy  that  action  upon  one  will 
be  action  upon  ah".  It  must  be  remembered  that  a  man 
may  apparently  have  all  society  against  him,  and  yet 
be  engaged  in  a  work  which  will  certainly  and  thor- 
oughly revolutionize  its  opinions  and  habits.  An  air- 
line railroad,  running  straight  through  home-lot  and 
garden  and  dwelling,  through  hill  and  valley  and 
meadow,  will  throw  everybody  upon  its  course  into 
wild  confusion  during  the  progress  of  its  construction ; 
and  were  we  to  sympathize  with  the  clamor  of  those 
with  whose  private  interests  it  temporarily  interferes, 
we  should  unite  with  them  in  calling  it  a  curse.  But 
when,  after  long  preparation,  and  great  individual 
labor  and  sacrifice,  it  is  completed,  and  the  cars  com- 
mence their  regular  trips,  the  abutters  upon  the  road 
adapt  themselves  to  it,  reap  gladly  and  gratefully  its 
advantages  in  the  appreciation  of  their  estates,  and 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  153 

learn  to  regard  it  as  a  blessing  which  they  cannot 
spare. 

There  are  many  good  reasons  why  a  reformer 
should  be  slow  to  lose  his  faith  in  humanity.  The  first 
and  most  obvious  is,  that  there  is  always  involved  in 
this  loss  the  loss  of  faith  in  God  and  in  himself.  I  have 
yet  to  see  the  first  reformer  who  has  lost  his  faith  in 
men — who  has  become  sour  and  bitter  toward  his  fel- 
lows— who  has  not  also  ceased  to  be  a  religious  man. 
The  religious  anniversaries  in  the  great  cities  nearly 
always  are  accompanied  by  gatherings  of  men  who, 
having  exhausted  their  faith  hi  their  fellows,  and  be- 
come bankrupt  in  charity,  meet  to  pour  into  one  an- 
other's ears,  and  into  the  ears  of  a  curious  multitude, 
the  horrid  discords  of  their  blatant  infidelity.  The  re- 
former feels,  too,  that  he  comes  into  any  general  judg- 
ment of  his  kind.  If  he  do  not  feel  this  fully,  he  at 
least  loses  faith  in  his  power  over  men,  and,  disap- 
pointed, sinks  back  into  fretfulness  over  the  failure  of 
his  mission,  and  the  miscarriage  of  his  life. 

Another  reason  why  a  reformer  should  be  slow  to 
lose  faith  in  men,  is  because  they  cannot  at  once  un- 
derstand him.  They  have  lost  faith  in  leaders,  and  for 
good  cause.  Leaders  have  been  accustomed  to  use 
them  for  the  accomplishment  of  selfish  purposes.  Thus, 
when  a  new  leader  arises,  it  takes  them  a  long  time  to 
become  fully  assured  of  his  motives.  As  there  are  al- 


154  Gold-Foil. 

ways  men  enough  whose  selfishness  leads  them  to  mis- 
construe these  motives,  it  may  sometimes  require  many 
years  for  a  man  to  vindicate  himself,  and  secure  confi- 
dence. There  is  no  justice  in  blaming  the  people  for 
this  cautiousness :  they  have  been  deceived  too  often, 
and  would  be  fools  were  they  not  to  exercise  it.  A  re- 
former has  no  right  to  expect  immediate  reception  into 
the  confidence  of  the  people.  They  must  be  satisfied 
of  the  motives  of  him  who  undertakes  to  lead  them, 
measure  his  ability,  sound  the  depths  of  his  charity,  and 
intellectually  comprehend  his  plans  before  they  ought 
to  consent  to  be  guided  by  him.  It  is  no  more  than 
just  to  say,  that  every  reformer  who  has  lost  his  faith  in 
men,  and  become  embittered  by  the  loss,  proves  that 
the  judgment  of  the  people  upon  his  character  is  just. 
He  undertook  a  task  for  which  he  was  not  fit,  and  the 
people  found  him  out. 

A  stronger  reason  still  for  the  preservation  of  faith 
in  men,  is,  that  the  more  intractable  and  unreasonable 
they  may  be,  the  greater  their  need  of  reformation,  and 
the  larger  draft  do  they  make  upon  faith.  Faith  in  hu- 
manity, under  divine  guidance  and  blessing,  is  the  hope 
of  the  world.  Christianity  comes  to  us  with  no  com- 
pulsory processes.  It  has  faith  in  itself,  doubtless ;  but 
without  faith  in  men,  it  would  never  have  come,  or 
never  would  have  made  its  appeal  to  voluntary  choice. 
Ail  powers  that  have  no  faith  in  men  act  by  compulsion, 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  155 

or  by  circumvention.  There  can  be  no  action  upon 
will — no  motives  of  action  presented  to  voluntary 
choice — that  do  not  proceed  upon  the  basis  of  faith  in 
humanity.  The  moment  we  lose  this  faith,  our  efforts 
are  paralyzed,  and  we  turn  railers  and  accusers.  A  man 
who  desires  to  benefit  his  fellows  cannot  proceed  a  sin- 
gle step  without  faith  in  those  whom  he  would  benefit. 
No  matter  how  bad  men  may  be,  there  must  be, 
on  the  part  of  him  who  would  reform  them,  the  faith 
that  there  is  that  in  them  which  will  respond  to  the 
truth  when  it  can  be  brought  into  contact  with  their 
judgment  and  conscience,  or  he  can  do  absolutely 
nothing. 

The  people  owe  a  duty  to  all  who  come  to  them 
with  the  professed  wish  to  do  them  good.  A  man  is 
not  necessarily  bad  because  a  dog  barks  at  him,  and  an 
honest  man  is  never  the  worse  because  a  dog  barks  at 
him.  If  you  will  look  over  your  town,  your  state,  your 
country,  you  will  readily  select  the  names  of  those 
against  whom  there  is  more  or  less  of  popular  clamor. 
You  will  recall  here  and  there  names  that  are  names  of 
reproach.  You  shrink  from  association  with  those  who 
bear  them.  If  you  enter  their  presence,  you  enter  sus- 
piciously, as  if  you  feared  a  taint,  or  guiltily,  as  if  you 
thought  them  conscious  of  the  contempt  in  which  you 
hold  them.  You  think,  because  there  is  so  much  out- 
cry against  them,  there  must  be  something  bad  in  them. 


156  Gold-Foil. 

Now,  no  considerate,  generous  man  will  join  in  this  out- 
cry, or  allow  it  to  prejudice  him  against  its  object.  It 
is,  I  believe,  the  general  rule,  that  these  men  are  men 
of  power — of  genuine  progressive  ideas — men  who  have 
an  errand  of  good  to  their  race. 

Look  back  over  the  past,  and  see  how  many  of  those 
whom  the  world  once  abused  are  the  world's  idols. 
Who  are  the  preachers  whom  you  most  delight  to 
hear  ?  Have  they  not,  at  some  tune  in  their  history, 
been  the  objects  of  the  world's  outcry,  and  of  yours, 
too  ?  Look  at  the  ballots  which  you  carry  to  the  polls 
with  confidence,  and  perhaps  with  unlimited  enthu- 
siasm. Do  they  not  bear  the  names  of  men  whom  you 
once  verily  believed  to  be  the  incarnations  of  selfish- 
ness and  dernagogism?  Think  of  the  statesmen,  hunted 
to  their  graves  by  the  hounds  of  popular  clamor,  who 
are  now  enthroned  among  the  nation's  immortals.  Re- 
member all  the  men  against  whom  you  have  joined  in 
denunciation,  and  whom  you  have  learned  to  respect, 
if  not  to  love,  by  getting  near  to  them,  and  obtaining 
a  look  into  their  honest  hearts  and  a  vision  of  their  de- 
voted lives.  Look  over  the  whole  track  of  history,  and 
see  how  every  one  who  ever  did  great  good  in  the 
world  has  been  the  object  of  the  world's  maledictions, 
and  then  be  careful  how  you  join  in  an  unreasoning  out- 
cry against  any  man. 

While  the  world  should  be  more  careful  and  consid- 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  157 

erate  in  its  treatment  of  those  who  come  to  it  with  a 
mission  of  good,  the  reformer  himself  should  be  very 
patient  with  the  world.  He  must  not  only  retain  his 
faith  in  it,  but  he  must  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to 
be  understood  and  accepted.  He  must  draw  close  to 
the  world,  where  it  can  look  into  his  heart,  and  the 
world  should  draw  close  to  him,  until  it  is  rationally 
satisfied  that  he  has  nothing  for  it.  The  efforts  of  op- 
posing forces,  backed  by  the  indorsement  of  the  un- 
reasoning multitude,  should  throw  no  worker  for  the 
world  off  his  poise,  nor  should  they  deprive  him  of  the 
honest  judgments  of  those  who  think.  No  true  man 
will  ever  be  in  haste  to  vindicate  himself  before  the 
world  by  direct  efforts  for  that  end.  He  has  faith  in 
men,  and  that  gives  him  faith  in  the  ultimate  judgments 
of  men.  He  lives,  and  speaks,  and  acts,  and  he  is  con- 
tent to  let  his  life,  his  words,  and  his  actions  speak  for 
him.  By  them  he  knows  that,  sooner  or  later,  the 
world  will  judge  him,  and  he  is  content.  Show  me  a 
man  who  gets  excited  and  uneasy  under  popular  clamor, 
and  betrays  his  unhappiness  and  anxiety  by  frequent 
private  or  public  explanations  and  justifications,  and 
you  will  show  me  one  who  is  not  to  be  trusted.  He 
has  not  the  spirit  nor  the  stamina  for  his  work.  But 
he  who  goes  straight  forward,  confident  in  his  own  mo- 
tives, true  to  his  own  convictions,  and  calmly  trustful 
of  the  ultimate  issue  of  his  efforts  and  his  life,  is  of  the 


158  Gold-Foil. 

true  metal,  and  one  may  be  sure  that  there  is  something 
good  in  him. 

He  laughs  best  who  laughs  last.  The  wheels  of 
progress  do  not  stop.  The  world  advances  toward  and 
into  a  better  life,  and  will  advance  until,  leaving  the 
hard,  clumsy  and  jarring  pavements  of  the  marts  of 
selfishness  behind,  it  will  strike  off  joyously  into  the 
broad  avenue  of  the  millennium.  No  man  can  be  a 
true  worker  for  human  good  who  does  not  believe  that 
the  cobble-stone  pavement  has  an  end,  and  that  there 
is  an  avenue  ahead  where  it  will  be  his  turn  to  enjoy 
himself.  He  believes  that  the  time  will  come  when 
what  he  is  doing,  and  has  done,  will  be  accepted  at  its 
true  value.  He  may  be  laughed  at  now ;  he  may  be 
scoffed  at  and  scorned ;  his  motives  may  be  maligned ; 
he  may  be  hammered  by  opposition  and  barked  at  by 
popular  clamor ;  but  he  knows  that  sometime  in  the  fu- 
ture it  will  be  his  turn  to  laugh,  and  he  is  confident  that 
he  will  laugh  last  and  laugh  best.  He  knows  that  God 
will  prove  to  be  a  good  paymaster,  and  he  believes  that 
the  world  will,  in  the  long  run,  be  just. 

If  any  man  propound  ideas  in  advance  of  the  world, 
the  world,  in  its  progress,  will  come  up  to  them,  as  cer- 
tainly as  the  world  continues  to  exist,  and  then,  if  not 
before,  it  will  remember.  Those  who  cherish  truth 
and  stand  by  the  right,  must  be  at  warfare  with  those 
who  hold  to  falsehood  and  to  sin.  There  is  no  con- 


Anvils  and  Hammers.  159 

scription  in  this  war.  It  is  a  voluntary  service  on  both 
sides,  and  neither  is  in  want  of  cowards.  There  is  a 
contemptibly  quiet  path  for  all  those  who  are  afraid  of 
the  blows  and  clamors  of  opposing  forces.  There  is  no 
honorable  fighting  for  any  man  who  is  not  ready  to  for- 
get that  he  has  a  head  to  be  battered  and  a  name  to  be 
bespattered.  Truth  wants  no  champion  who  is  not  as 
ready  to  be  struck,  as  to  strike,  for  her.  The  eye  that 
can  see  the  triumph  of  that  which  is  good  in  the  world 
from  afar,  the  heart  that  can  be  certain  of  victory, 
though  now  in  the  sulphurous  thickness  of  the  fight, 
can  afford  present  contumely  and  even  present  defeat. 
The  bearer  of  such  a  heart  and  eye  knows  that,  sooner 
or  later,  the  tune  will  come  when  he  and  the  band  to 
which  he  belongs  shall  celebrate  a  final  victory  over  all 
that  oppose  them — that  they  shall  come  home  from  the 
contest  "with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their 
heads."  He  knows  that  the  last  shout  will  be  his,  and 
that  the  severer  the  conflict  the  heartier  will  that  shout 
be.  Ah !  what  peans  of  triumph,  what  sweeps  of  ma- 
jestic music,  what  waving  of  banners,  what  joyous  tu- 
mult of  white-robed  hosts,  shall  greet  him  who  goes 
home,  worn  and  weary,  to  take  a  crown  worthily  won 
in  the  contest  with  error  and  with  wrong.  May  that 
crown  be  yours  and  mine ! 


XIV. 

EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PLACE. 

"  Ton  stout  and  I  stoat, 

Who  shall  carry  the  dirt  out  ?  " 
"  Every  man  cannot  be  vicar  of  Bowden." 
«*  He  that  cannot  paint  must  grind  the  colors." 

WHO  shall  be  vicar  of  Bowden  and  who  shall 
carry  the  dirt  out — who  shall  paint  and  who 
shall  grind  the  colors — are  questions  which,  in  various 
forms,  have  agitated  the  world  since  human  society 
existed.  Dissatisfaction  with  position  and  condition  is 
well  nigh  universal.  Every  man  walks  with  his  eyes 
and  wishes  upwards — some  moved  by  aspiration  for  a 
nobler  good,  others  by  ambition  for  a  higher  place ; 
some  by  emulation  of  a  worthy  example,  others  by  dis- 
content with  the  allotments  of  Providence.  The  in- 
fant does  not  forget  to  climb  when  he  learns  to  walk, 
nor  is  the  man  less  a  climber  than  the  boy.  Every 
thing  is  towering,  or  climbing,  or  reaching,  or  looking 


Every  Man  has  his  Place.  161 

upward.  The  elm  stretches  its  feathery  arms  and 
waves  its  hands  toward  the  clouds  that  hang  over  it , 
the  vine  pulls  itself  up  the  elm  by  its  delicate  fingers ; 
and  the  violet  sits  at  the  foot  of  the  vine  and  looks  up, 
and  breathes  its  fragrant  wishes  heavenward.  Even 
the  sleeping  lakelet  in  the  meadow  dreams  of  stars, 
and  will  not  be  satisfied  without  a  private  firmament 
of  water-lilies.  It  is  as  if  God  had  whispered  into  the 
ear  of  all  existence,  the  moment  it  was  emerging  from 
nihility,  the  words — "  look  up  ! "  and,  hardly  knowing 
why,  it  had  been  looking  up  ever  since.  Well,  this  is 
right ;  for,  far  above  every  thing  shines  the  great 
White  Throne — sits  the  Father  Soul — abide  the  treas- 
uries of  all  good — burns  the  uncreated  fire  at  which 
the  torches  of  life  were  lighted.  It  is  a  natural,  in- 
stinctive thing  to  look  upward. 

Discontent  may  be  a  very  good  thing,  or  a  very 
bad  thing.  There  is  a  discontent  which  is  divine, — 
which  has  its  birth  in  the  highest  and  purest  inspira- 
tions that  visit  and  stir  the  soul.  All  that  discontent 
which  grows  from  dissatisfaction  with  present  attain- 
ment, or  springs  from  a  desire  for  higher  usefulness,  or 
has  its  birth  in  motives  that  impel  to  the  worthy 
achievement  of  an  honorable  name  and  an  honorable 
place,  is  a  thing  to  be  visited  by  blessings  and  benisons. 
Discontent  which  comes  from  below — which  comes 
from  a  soul  disgusted  with  its  lot — a  soul  faithless  in 


162  Gold-Foil. 

God,  and  out  of  harmony  with  the  arrangements  and 
the  operations  of  Providence,  is  an  evil  thing — only- 
evil — and  that  continually.  One  holds  the  principle 
of  love ;  the  other  of  malice.  One  is  attracted  from 
above  ;  the  other  is  instigated  from  below.  One  tends 
to  the  development  of  a  symmetrical,  strong,  and  har- 
monious character ;  the  other  to  disorganization  and 
depreciation.  One  is  from  heaven,  the  other  is  from 
hell. 

I  look  out  of  my  window,  and  see  a  carriage  rolling 
by,  with  its  freight  of  richly-dressed  ladies.  On  the 
coach-box  sits  a  man  who  drives  the  horses  when  they 
go,  and  opens  the  door  of  the  carriage  and  lets  down 
the  steps  when  they  stop.  Further  up  the  street  there 
is  a  building  going  up.  The  architect  stands  by  with 
his  hand  in  his  breast,  giving  directions.  The  hod- 
carrier,  smeared  with  mortar,  passes  him,  climbs  the 
giddy  ladder,  and  drops  the  bricks  upon  the  scaffold- 
ing, and  these,  one  after  another,  are  driven  to  their 
places  by  the  ringing  trowel  of  the  brick-layer.  I  rise 
from  my  seat,  and  walk  through  the  rooms  adjoining 
my  own.  Here  sits  an  editor,  hastily  putting  together 
the  thoughts  that  will  form  to-morrow's  leader.  At 
another  table  sits  another  editor,  culling  from  a  pile  of 
exchanges  bits  of  intelligence  that  come  in  on  a  thou- 
sand paper  wings  from  other  communities.  At  their 
oases  stand  the  compositors,  setting  up,  type  by  type, 


Every  Man  has  his  Place.  163 


the  matter  which  the  editors  prepare  for  them.  The 
pressman  and  the  engineer  have  their  respective  parts 
to  perform.  I  find  the  great  aggregate  of  life  to  be  a 
network  of  duties — an  organized  system  of  duties.  In 
order  to  secure  the  comfort  of  the  whole,  there  is  a 
certain  amount  of  work  to  be  done,  infinitely  various 
in  kind.  There  must  be  an  architect  to  plan,  there 
must  be  a  hod-carrier  to  bear  mortar,  and  a  brick-layer 
to  lay  the  bricks,  or  we  shall  have  no  buildings.  There 
must  be  an  editor,  and  a  compositor,  and  a  pressman, 
or  there  will  be  no  newspaper.  Who  shall  do  the 
thinking,  and  who  shall  perform  the  manual  labor  ? 
Who  shall  paint,  and  who  shall  grind  the  colors? 
Every  man  cannot  be  vicar  of  Bowden. 

It  does  not  suffice  to  tell  discontented  people  that 
every  man  has  his  place,  and  will  find  his  highest  ac- 
count in  seeking  to  fill  it,  and  to  fill  it  well.  What 
particularly  troubles  them  is,  that  they  were  made  for 
so  low  a  place.  They  really  call  God's  wisdom  and 
benevolence  in  question  for  assigning  to  them  subordi- 
nate offices  in  operating  the  machinery  of  society.  A 
man  finds  himself  distinguished  by  clumsy  hands  and 
broad  shoulders,  with  a  hod  on  his  back,  and  complains 
that  he  was  not  made  for  a  brick-layer  ;  and  the  brick- 
layer wishes  ho  had  the  ease  and  the  honor  of  the 
architect,  and  wonders  why  his  power  of  achievement 
is  so  closely  circumscribed.  The  coachman  rubs  down 


164  Gold-Foil. 

his  horses,  aud  marvels  that  he  was  not  born  to  their 
ownership,  and  that  the  owner  was  not  born  to  drive 
for  him.  So  people  quarrel  with  their  position,  the 
world  over.  Every  thing  in  the  world  is  unequal  to 
these  people.  They  do  not  see  the  impartial  justice 
of  conferring  upon  one  man  great  mental  faculties, 
pleasant  address,  and  commanding  presence,  while 
another  is  condemned  to  be  a  dwarf,  both  in  mind  and 
body,  and  to  serve  his  more  highly-favored  neighbor 
that  he  may  win  bread  and  raiment. 

Well,  there  is  all  this  work  to  do  :  who  shall  do  it  ? 
A  link  broken  in  the  chain  will  spoil  the  chain.  There 
are  all  these  places  to  fill :  who  shall  fill  them  ?  I  fill 
a  subordinate  office  in  the  world  :  why  should  not  you  ? 
Is  there  any  good  reason  why  you  should  be  vicar  of 
Bowden,  and  the  vicar  of  Bowden  should  tend  a  toll- 
bridge,  or  conduct  a  railroad  train?  Since  these 
things  are  to  be  done  by  somebody,  you  and  I  may  as 
well  take  the  part  that  comes  to  us,  and  perform  it. 
It  is  not  best  to  stop  the  wheels  of  society  on  our  pri- 
vate account.  If  you  and  I  have  had  any  injustice 
done  to  us  in  the  assignment  of  our  duties,  it  will  not 
mend  any  thing  to  fasten  our  ill-fortune  upon  some- 
body else ;  and  you  and  I  are  not  the  men  to  skulk,  I 
think.  Genuine,  manly  pluck  and  good  nature  will 
settle  much  of  this  difficulty.  If  our  advance  involve 
nothing  more  than  a  change  of  places  with  others,  it  is 


Every  Man  has  his  Place.  165 


not  exactly  the  manly  thing  to  whine  about  our 
lot. 

But  there  is  a  better  and  a  broader  basis  for  the 
settlement  of  this  matter  than  this ;  and  did  we  pos- 
sess even  a  modicum  of  the  faith  in  God  that  we  ought 
to  possess,  we  should  feel  certain  there  would  be  such 
a  basis,  though  we  might  fail  to  find  it.  The  instinc- 
tive, persistent  search  of  the  soul  is  for  happiness.  We 
seek  for  office,  or  place,  or  wealth ;  we  pine  over  the 
fact  that  our  mental  endowments  and  acquisitions  are 
comparatively  indifferent  or  positively  mean ;  and  why  ? 
Because,  while  we  lie  dreaming  upon  our  pillow  of 
stone,  the  places  and  positions  of  life  shape  themselves 
into  a  ladder  on  which  angels  ascend  and  descend,  the 
last  round  leaning  on  a  heavenly  landing ;  because  that 
which  is  above  us,  in  allotment,  gift,  and  acquisition, 
forms  so  many  steps  of  the  gradatory  that  leads  from 
the  cells  where  we  do  penance,  to  the  temple  where  we 
expect  peace  and  heavenly  communion.  In  other 
words,  we  are  discontented  because  we  believe  there 
is  more  happiness  on  the  upper  steps  of  society  than 
on  ours ;  and  here  is  where  the  great  mistake  is  made. 

If  there  be  any  thing  which  human  history  teaches 
more  thoroughly  than  any  other  thing — if  there  be  any 
fact  revealed  to  observation  more  clearly  than  any 
other  fact — it  is,  that  happiness  docs  not  depend  upon 
condition  and  position — that  it  has  its  birth  in  posses- 


166  Gold-Foil. 

sions  and  relations  superior  to,  and  in  most  respects 
unaffected  by,  those  facts  of  individual  and  social  life 
which  divide  men  into  classes.  Here  is  where  the 
Good  Father  equalizes  human  lot.  High  position,  con- 
sidered by  itself,  is  not  a  positive  good — is  not,  in  and 
of  itself,  a  source  of  happiness  to  the  souls  planted  upon 
it.  There  is  no  good  reason  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
universe  of  God  why  the  coachman  should  not  be  as 
happy  as  the  dainty  ladies  whom  he  serves.  There  is 
no  reason  why  the  hod-carrier  may  not  be  as  happy  as 
the  bricklayer,  and  the  bricklayer  as  happy  as  the 
architect.  Wants  keep  pace  with  wealth  always. 
Responsibility  walks  hand  in  hand  with  capacity  and 
power.  Of  him  to  whom  much  is  given  much  will  be 
required.  Posts  of  honor  are  evei'more  posts  of  danger 
and  of  care.  Each  office  of  society  has  its  burden,  pro- 
portioned to  its  importance  ;  so  that  men  shall  find  no 
apology  for  murmuring  at  the  better  lot  of  their  neigh- 
bors, while  all  are  made  dependent  for  happiness  upon 
common  sources — open  alike  to  him  who  wears  fine 
linen  and  fares  sumptuously  every  day,  and  the  beggar 
Avho  waits  at  his  gate. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  if  our  minds  were  capa- 
ble of  apprehending  the  essential  facts  of  the  life  we 
see,  we  should  be  convinced  that  happiness  is  one  of 
the  most  evenly  distributed  of  all  human  possessions. 
The  laborer  loves  his  wife  and  children  as  well  as  the 


Every  Man  has  his  Place.  167 

lord,  and  takes  into  his  soul  all  the  tender  and  precious 
influences  that  flow  to  him  through  their  love  as  well 
as  he.  Food  tastes  as  sweetly  to  the  ploughman  as  the 
placeman.  If  the  latter  have  the  daintier  dish,  the 
former  has  the  keener  appetite.  Into  all  ears  the  brook 
pours  the  same  stream  of  music,  and  the  birds  never 
vary  their  programme  with  reference  to  their  audiences. 
The  spring  scatters  violets  broadcast,  and  grass  grows 
by  the  roadside  as  well  as  in  the  park.  The  breeze  that 
tosses  the  curls  of  your  little  ones  and  mine  is  not  softer 
in  its  caresses  of  those  who  bound  over  velvet  to  greet  it. 
The  sun  shines,  the  rain  falls,  the  trees  dress  themselves 
in  green,  the  thunder  rolls,  and  the  stars  flash,  for  all 
alike.  Health  knows  nothing  of  human  distinctions, 
and  abides  with  him  who  treats  it  best.  Sleep,  the  gen- 
tle angel,  does  not  come  at  the  call  of  power,  and  never 
proffers  its  ministry  for  gold.  The  senses  take  no  bribes 
of  luxury ;  but  deal  as  honestly  and  generously  by  the 
poor  as  by  the  rich ;  and  the  President  of  the  United 
States  would  whistle  himself  blind  before  he  could  call 
our  dog  from  us. 

If  we  examine  this  matter  critically,  we  shall  find 
that  the  sweetest  satisfactions  that  come  to  us  are  those 
which  spring  from  sources  common  to  the  race.  If  you 
and  I  are  worthy  men,  that  which  is  most  precious  to 
us,  as  the  material  of  our  daily  happiness,  is  precisely 
that  which  is  not  dependent  upon  the  positions  we  re- 


168  Gold-Foil. 

spcctively  occupy  in  the  world.  Now,  if  we  look  above 
this  range  of  common  Providence  into  that  realm  of 
fact,  in  which  abides  our  common  relationship  to  a 
common  Father,  the  distinctions  of  society  and  the  va- 
riety and  contrariety  of  human  lot  fade  away  and  be- 
come contemptible.  If  God  smile  on  me  and  fill  my 
heart  with  peace ;  if  He  forgive  my  sin,  and  give  me 
promise  and  assurance  of  a  higher  life  beyond  the 
grave ;  if  He  call  me  His  child,  and  draw  out  from  my 
cold  and  selfish  heart  a  filial  love  for  Him ;  if  He  in- 
spire me  with  a  brotherly  charity  that  embraces  in  its 
arms  all  who  bear  His  image ;  if  He  give  me  a  hope 
more  precious  to  me  than  all  gold,  and  transform  the 
narrow  path  in  which  I  walk  into  the  vestibule  of  Heav- 
en, it  will  very  naturally  be  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  me  whether  I  paint,  or  grind  the  colors — whether  I 
carry  dirt,  or  officiate  as  the  vicar  of  Bowden.  If  we 
were  all  made  in  His  image ;  if  we  are  all  held  amena- 
ble to  the  same  law ;  if  we  all  have  offer  of  the  same 
salvation;  if  we  are  all  to  be  judged  according  to  our 
deeds ;  if  we  have  the  promise  of  the  same  heaven  on 
the  same  terms,  it  shows,  at  least,  what  God  thinks  of 
human  distinctions. 

The  ministry  of  nature,  and  love,  and  sympathy, 
are  common  to  all  men.  On  the  broad  platform  of 
morals,  the  king  stands  uncovered  by  the  side  of  the 
peasant,  and  wealth  and  place  flaunt  no  titles  and  claim 


Every  Man  has  his  Place.  169 

no  privileges.  In  religion,  all  men  kneel  and  worship  a 
common  Lord.  Men  are  placed  in  different  positions 
in  this  world  simply  because  there  is  a  great  variety  of 
work  to  do,  and  no  one  man  can  do  all  kinds.  If  you 
and  I  have  found  our  places — if  we  find  ourselves  en- 
gaged in  doing  that  thing  which,  on  the  whole,  we  can 
do  better  than  any  thing  else,  then  low  discontent  with 
our  lot  is  not  only  sinful  but  mean.  God  gives  to  you 
and  to  me  just  as  many  sources  of  innocent  happiness 
as  he  has  given  to  anybody,  and  opens  to  us  just  as  fair 
a  heaven  as  he  has  opened  to  anybody.  It  becomes  us, 
therefore,  to  fill  our  places,  and  do  our  particular  duties 
well,  hold  up  our  heads  in  front  of  every  man  with  self- 
respectful  complacency,  do  honor  to  the  office  which 
God  has  selected  for  us,  by  a  faithful  performance  of 
its  functions,  and  take  and  pocket  contentedly  the 
penny  a  day  which  we  get  in  common  with  others. 
The  Creator  doubtless  knew  what  weak,  unreasonable, 
and  inconsistent  creatures  we  should  be  when  he  made 
us  ;  but  if  you  and  I  had  made  a  world  full  of  people, 
and  set  them  at  work  with  pledge  of  even  pay  and 
equal  privilege  in  all  essential  good,  and  they  had  set 
themselves  to  erecting  artificial  distinctions  among 
themselves,  and  gone  to  whining  over  the  parts  we  had 
assigned  to  them,  we  should  be  exceedingly  disap- 
pointed, not  to  say  disgusted. 

Still,  we  may  all  look  up.    There  are  steps  to  be 
8 


170  Gold-Foil. 

climbed  in  life,  but  wo  can  only  climb  them  worthily 
by  becoming  fit  for  the  ascent.  It  is  only  after  becom- 
ing prepared  for  important  places,  through  the  educa- 
tion involved  in  the  intelligent  and  faithful  discharge 
of  the  duties  of  the  place  in  which  we  find  ourselves, 
that  it  is  best,  or  even  proper,  that  we  be  advanced. 
It  is  not  those  who  pine  and  whine,  and  quarrel  with 
their  lot,  who  are  apt  to  change  it  for  one  which  the 
world  calls  better.  Aspiration,  worthy  ambition,  de- 
sire for  higher  good  for  good  ends — all  these  indicate  a 
soul  that  recognizes  the  beckoning  hand  of  the  Good 
Father  who  would  call  us  homeward  toward  himself — 
all  these  are  the  ground  and  justification  of  a  Christian 
discontent ;  but  a  murmuring,  questioning,  fault-finding 
spirit  has  direct  and  sympathetic  alliance  with  nothing 
but  the  infernal.  So  while  God  gives  you  and  me  the 
privilege  of  being  as  happy  as  any  other  man,  and 
makes  us  responsible  for  nothing  more  than  he  gives  us, 
let  us  be  contented,  and, 

"  Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 
Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait." 


XV. 

INDOLENCE  AND  INDUSTRY. 

u  Idleness  Is  the  sepulchre  of  a  living  man." 
"  Constant  occupation  prevents  temptation." 
"Idle  men  nrc  the  Devil's  play-fellows." 
"Business  is  the  salt  of  life." 

HUMANITY  is  constitutionally  lazy.  I  have  yet 
to  see  the  first  child  take  naturally  to  steady 
work,  or  the  first  young  man  look  forward  with  no  de- 
sire to  an  age  of  ease.  There  are  multitudes  of  men 
who  love  work,  but  they  have  learned  to  love  it,  and  have 
learned  that  they  are  made  truly  happier  by  it.  We  are 
all  looking  forward  to  some  golden  hour  when  we  may 
"  retire  from  business,"  read  the  newspapers  at  leisure, 
drive  a  pair  of  steady  bay  horses,  walk  to  the  post- 
office  with  a  well-fed  belly  and  a  gold-headed  cane,  and 
be  free.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  man  ever  became 
thoroughly  industrious,  save  imdcr  the  impulsion  of 


172  Gold-Foil. 

motives  outside  of  the  attractions  of  labor.  We  labor, 
because  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  labor  for  sustenance,  or 
to  achieve  an  object  of  ambition,  or  because  idleness  is 
felt  to  be  a  greater  evil  than  labor.  The  number  of 
potatoes  unearthed  in  the  world  "  for  the  fun  of  it," 
would  not  feed  a  flock  of  sheep.  In  fact,  I  believe  that 
God  made  us  lazy  for  a  purpose.  He  did  not  intend 
that  we  should  have  any  thing  but  air  and  water  cost- 
less. If  labor  were  a  pleasure,  we  should  have  really 
to  pay  for  nothing,  and,  as  a  consequence,  we  should 
prize  nothing  that  we  have.  AM  values  have  their  basis 
in  cost,  and  labor  is  the  first  cost  of  every  thing  on 
which  we  set  a  price.  But  labor  has  a  higher  end  than 
this,  and  I  will  try  to  reveal  it. 

Every  man  and  woman  is  born  into  the  world  with 
a  stock  of  vitality  which  must  be  expended  in  some 
way.  It  may  be  breathed  out  in  unnecessary  sleep,  or 
appropriated  wholly  to  the  digestion  of  unnecessary 
food,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  runs  to  waste  in  these  ways. 
It  may  be  expended  in  sport  and  in  play,  it  may  be  ex- 
hausted in  sickness,  or  it  may  be  applied  to  labor. 
This  vitality  is  naturally  a  restless  principle.  In  the 
boy,  to  whom  existence  is  fresh,  we  find  it  unchained, 
and  betraying  itself  in  antics  and  races,  and  foolhardy 
feats,  and  various  play.  It  impels  him  to  exercise  and 
activity  in  all  places  and  at  all  tunes.  This  vitality  is 
alike  the  basis  of  mental  and  muscular  power.  Forth 


Indolence  and  Industry.  173 


from  it  proceeds  all  action  whatsoever.    When  we  pos- 
sess it,  we  live ;  when  it  leaves  us,  we  die. 

This  vitality  is,  then,  the  matrix,  as  it  is  the  meas- 
ure, of  inherent  power ;  yet  one  man  with  a  given 
stock  of  vitality  may  have  a  hundred  times  the  practi- 
cal power  of  another  man  whose  stock  of  vitality  is  the 
same,  the  reason  being  that  the  organs  of  action, 
through  which  vitality  manifests  itself,  and  by  which  it 
works,  are  better  trained  in  one  case  than  in  the  other. 
Use  is  the  condition  of  development  of  all  the  powers 
of  the  body  and  the  soul.  Facility  of  action  comes  by 
habit.  A  man  from  any  outside  profession,  obliged  to 
write  a  daily  brace  of  leaders  for  the  newspaper,  would 
break  down  in  six  months,  while  the  accustomed  editor 
would  not  find  himself  fatigued  beyond  his  wont.  The 
greatest  mind  in  the  nation  would  find  itself  perplexed 
and  exhausted  in  the  attempt  to  make  a  horse-shoe, 
while  some  humble  apprentice  of  the  smithy  would 
make  one  of  superior  excellence  with  comparative  ease. 
The  greater  the  facility  that  may  be  acquired  in  the 
use  of  organs  and  faculties,  the  smaller  the  draft  will 
be  upon  the  vitality  that  feeds  them.  The  reason  why 
some  men  accomplish  to  much  more  than  others  is  not, 
generally,  that  they  have  more  vitality  than  others, 
but  that  the  facility  of  labor  which  use  and  habit  have 
given  them  enables  them  to  do  more  without  vital  ex- 
haustion. 


174  Gold-Foil. 

"Now  life  means  but  little  unless  it  means  that  we 
are  in  a  state  of  education — a  condition  in  which  our 
powers  and  faculties  are  to  be  educed.  If  we  are  not 
in  training  for  something,  this  life  is  one  of  the  most 
serious  of  all  practical  jokes.  Labor  in  all  its  variety, 
corporeal  and  mental,  is  the  instituted  means  for  the 
methodical  development  of  all  our  powers,  under  the 
direction  and  control  of  will.  Through  the  channels 
of  labor  this  vitality  is  to  be  directed.  Into  practical 
results  of  good  to  ourselves  and  others  it  is  all  to  flow, 
and  those  results  will  prescribe  the  method  which  we 
need.  It  is  to  secure  this  great  end  of  development 
that  the  prizes  of  life  are  placed  before  us  as  things  to 
be  worked  for.  "When  we  get  these  prizes,  they  seem 
small ;  and,  intrinsically,  they  are  of  but  little  value. 
They  are,  in  fact,  h'ttle  better  than  diplomas  that  testify 
of  long  labor,  worthily  performed.  Still  before  us  rises 
worthier  good,  to  stimulate  us  to  harder  labor  and 
higher  achievement.  Still  the  will  urges  on  the  organs 
of  the  body  and  the  faculties  of  the  mind  till  that  habit 
which  is  second  nature  gives  them  the  law  of  action, 
and  employment  itself  becomes  its  own  exceeding  great 
reward. 

Still,  the  most  industrious  of  us  feel,  at  times,  that 
we  are  laboring  by  compulsion.  Often  both  the  spirit 
and  the  flesh  are  unwilling  and  weak.  We  are  goaded 
to  labor  by  need.  We  are  urged  to  labor  because  we 


Indolence  and  Industry.  175 

cannot  enjoy  our  leisure.  We  labor  because  we  are 
ashamed  to  be  idle.  Many  a  man,  bowed  down  by  his 
daily  toil,  looks  forward  to  the  grave  for  rest ;  and 
far  be  it  from  me  to  tell  him  that  he  is  looking  and 
hoping  for  that  which  he  will  never  experience.  I  do 
not  believe  there  will  be  any  hurry  in  eternity,  or  any 
such  necessity  of  labor  as  we  have  here.  If  I  have  a 
competent  comprehension  of  the  spiritual  estate,  it  w*ill 
tax  us  but  little  for  food  and  clothing ;  and  if  the  labor 
to  which  we  devote  ourselves  here  shall  train  us  to 
facility  in  the  use  of  our  powers,  the  work  that  will  be 
given  to  us  to  do  there  will  be  something  to  be  grate- 
ful for.  We  shall  have  all  the  rest  we  want.  A  sleep 
of  a  century  will  make  no  inroads  upon  our  time,  if  we 
need  any  such  sleep.  But  I  have  an  idea  that  when 
the  clogs  are  off,  and  the  old  feeling  of  youth  comes 
back,  we  shall  be  glad  to  have  something  to  do,  and 
that  the  use  of  powers  which  labor  has  trained  under 
the  direction  of  will  for  worthy  ends  will  be  everlast- 
ing play,  as  keenly  enjoyed  as  the  play  of  the  rest- 
less boy. 

It  is  only  as  we  look  upon  labor  in  this  light  that 
we  understand  its  real  value  and  significance.  If  the 
prizes  we  win  here  are  all  the  reward  that  labor  brings, 
it  pays  but  poorly.  But  labor,  like  all  the  passages 
through  which  God  would  lead  our  life,  is  full  of  inci- 
dental rewards.  The  man  who  carves  the  channel  of  a 


176  Gold-Foil. 

laborious  life,  taps  the  springs  of  tributary  joys  through 
every  mile.  Health  is  an  incident  of  powers  well 
trained  and  industriously  employed.  Self-respect  wells 
up  in  the  heart  of  him  whose  energies,  under  the  con- 
trol of  his  will,  are  directed  to  worthy  ends.  Popular 
regard  crowns  him  who  is  a  worthy  worker.  The 
sleep  of  the  laboring  man  is  sweet,  and  none  but  he 
knows  the  luxury  of  fatigue.  Temptation  flies  from 
the  earnest  and  contented  laborer,  and  preys  upon  the 
brain  and  heart  of  the  idler.  Labor  brings  men  into 
sympathy  with  the  worthy  men  of  the  world.  So, 
there  is  enough  of  joy  to  be  found  in  labor,  if  we  will 
only  mark  its  source,  to  encourage  and  content  us,  even 
if  the  great  end  of  labor  be  somewhat  hidden  from  us, 
as  it  doubtless  is  from  multitudes  of  men. 

This  vitality  of  which  I  have  been  talking  will  find 
vent  somewhere.  If,  under  the  direction  of  the  will, 
it  is  not  taxed  for  the  support  of  methodical  labor,  it 
will  demonstrate  its  nature  in  irregular  ways.  Wherever 
we  find  a  profession  or  calling,  excellence  in  which  de- 
mands great  vital  power,  and  exercise  in  which  taxes 
that  vital  power  but  little,  or  only  for  brief  periods  of 
time,  there  we  shall  find  vitality  seeking  demonstration 
through  the  passions.  No  person  can  be  a  great  sing- 
er, a  great  actor,  a  great  orator,  or  a  great  writer, 
without  great  vitality.  In  the  case  of  the  singer,  the 
actor  and  the  orator,  this  vitality,  absolutely  necessary 


Indolence  and  Industry.  177 

for  great  success,  is  only  subject  to  draft  on  occasions. 
In  the  lives  of  all  these  people  there  are  long  intervals 
of  repose,  in  which  the  unused  energies  seek  expendi- 
ture. As  a  natural  consequence,  they  are  subject  to 
great  temptations,  and  their  lapses  from  virtue  are  no- 
torious. I  would  traduce  no  class  of  persons  in  the 
world.  There  are  among  these  classes  as  pure  and 
noble  men  and  women  as  are  to  be  found  in  any  class, 
and  the  purer  and  nobler  because  their  virtue  costs 
them  something.  There  is  always  something  peculiarly 
dangerous  in  a  calling  that  requires  great  vitality  at 
irregular  intervals  ;  and  the  followers  of  such  callings 
should  understand  the  philosophy  of  their  danger,  and 
guard  themselves  with  peculiar  care. 

This  will  illustrate  very  well  the  influence  of  idle- 
ness upon  the  morals.  There  are  those  in  the  world 
upon  whose  vitality  labor  makes  no  draft  whatever. 
They  are  not  subject  even  at  intervals  to  legitimate 
expenditures  of  vitality  ;  but  they  have  it,  and,  unless 
impotent  in  will  or  imbecile  in  passion,  that  vitality 
will  have  expenditure.  No  truly  Christian  man  can  be 
truly  an  indolent  man.  He  must  necessarily  have  es- 
tablished legitimate  channels  of  methodical,  vital  ex- 
penditure, or  his  Christianity  will  be  a  very  weak  affair. 
There  is  really  nothing  left  to  a  genuine  idle  man,  who 
possesses  any  considerable  degree  of  vital  power,  but 
sin.  A  man  who  has  nothing  to  do  is  the  devil's  play- 


178  Gold-Foil. 

fellow.  He  has  no  choice  in  the  matter.  He  can  find 
no  sympathy  anywhere  else.  Good  men  find  nothing 
in  him  congenial.  Industrious  men  have  no  time  to 
devote  to  him,  and  would  have  no  sympathy  with  him 
if  they  had.  All  the  decent  world  is  in  league  against 
an  idle  man.  Everybody  despises  him,  whether  he  be 
rich  or  poor.  Everybody  feels  that  he  is  a  nuisance — 
that  he  is  a  sneak,  who  refuses  to  employ  the  powers 
with  which  he  has  been  endowed,  and  declines  to  con- 
tribute his  quota  to  the  support  of  the  race.  He  is 
driven  by  the  very  necessity  of  his  position  into  secret 
or  open  vice,  and  he  finds  in  obedience  to  the  calls  of 
temptation  the  only  delights  that  season  an  otherwise 
insipid  life. 

Idleness  is  the  sepulchre  of  a  living  man.  A  man 
whose  will  refuses  to  direct  the  vitality  within  him  into 
regular  channels  of  labor — who  simply  feeds  and  sleeps, 
or  nurses  his  passions  and  his  appetites — whose  highest 
satisfaction  comes  from  sense — is  as  good  as  dead  and 
buried.  Of  what  use  is  such  a  man  in  the  world,  to 
himself  or  others  ?  If  he  will  not  work,  he  is  a  burden 
upon  society,  even  if  he  prey  upon  a  pile  of  inherited 
wealth.  That  wealth,  if  he  were  out  of  the  way,  would 
pass  into  better  hands ;  and  the  world  has  need  of  it 
for  its  workers.  No  man  has  a  right  to  be  idle  if  he 
can  get  work  to  do,  even  if  he  be  as  rich  as  Croesus, 
eimply  because  he  cannot  be  an  idle  man  without  in- 


Indolence  and  Industry.  179 

jury  to  himself  and  to  society.  He  destroys  his  own 
happiness,  buries  his  powers  of  usefulness,  and  furnishes 
to  the  world  a  pestilent  example. 

If  any  rich  young  man  read  these  words,  I  have 
something  of  importance  to  say  to  him.  Your  father, 
either  by  business  enterprise  or  family  inheritance,  is 
rich.  You  know  the  amount  of  his  wealth,  and  you 
know  there  is  enough  of  it  to  support  you  while  you 
live,  without  labor.  Here  is  a  great  temptation.  As 
I  have  said  before,  humanity  is  constitutionally  lazy ; 
and  when  you  see  how  severely  the  prizes  of  life  are  to 
be  struggled  for,  you  naturally  shrink  from  the  sharp, 
and,  what  seems  to  be,  the  unnecessary  competition. 
There  is  also,  perhaps,  in  your  mind,  a  prejudice  against 
labor.  It  may  not  appear  to  you  a  very  genteel  thing 
to  tie  yourself  to  a  daily  round  of  duties.  You  like  to 
be  independent,  and  to  show  that  you  are  so.  Now 
be  very  careful  here,  or  you  will  make  the  great  mis- 
take of  your  life — a  mistake  which  some  day  you  will 
be  willing  to  give  all  your  wealth  to  recall.  I  know 
that  you  cannot  be  happy  without  fulfilling  the  end  of 
your  being,  and  so  do  you.  I  know  that  you  cannot 
fulfil  the  end  of  your  being  without  the  thorough  de- 
velopment of  your  powers  by  the  regular,  systematic 
expenditure  of  your  vitality  in  labor.  I  know  that  un- 
less you  do  this,  time  will  bo  left  upon  your  hands  to 
be  dreamed  away  alone,  or  inflicted  as  a  bore  upon 


180  Gold-Foil. 

others  who  have  something  to  do,  or  to  be  filled  up  by 
ministry  to  appetites  which  will  degrade  you.  So  I 
say  to  you,  never  dream,  for  a  moment,  of  a  life  of 
idleness.  Such  a  life  will  curse  you  and  injure  others. 
Such  a  life  is  as  unmanly  as  it  is  ungodly.  It  has  no 
redeeming  feature  and  no  apology.  Have  a  profession, 
or  a  calling,  of  some  kind,  which  shall  make  a  regular 
tax  upon  your  powers.  Only  in  this  way  can  you  be 
reasonably  safe  from  low  temptations,  acquire  self- 
respect,  secure  the  esteem  of  men,  and  place  yourself 
in  sympathy  with  this  working  world. 

I  know  that  there  are  many  who  are  obh'ged  to 
work  too  hard — whose  vitality  is  taxed  beyond  measure, 
and  beyond  the  profit  of  the  organs  and  faculties  by 
which  it  is  expended.  "While  this  fact  is  partly  owing 
to  the  multiplicity  and  extravagance  of  artificial  wants, 
it  might  be  greatly  modified  by  a  more  universal  adop- 
tion of  the  habit  of  labor.  The  burdens  of  the  world 
are  unequally  borne.  A  great  multitude  live  without 
labor;  they  are  drones  in  the  hive.  A  still  greater 
multitude  live  by  their  wits ;  and  over  all  this  country 
— never  more  than  at  the  present  time — is  there  a  dis- 
position to  gain  wealth  out  of  the  regular  channels  of 
business.  The  real  "  English  "  of  this  mode  of  acquir- 
ing wealth  is  to  get  it  without  earning  it — a  way  of 
legally  gaining  possession  of  what  others  have  earned 
by  the  sweat  of  their  brows.  Nearly  all  the  popular 


Indolence  and  Industry.  181 

modes  and  means  of  speculation  are  modes  and  means 
of  legal  gambling.  Not  a  dollar  is  produced  in  the 
world  that  is  not  either  taken  from  the  ground,  or 
pulled  from  the  sea  by  somebody ;  and  it  is  a  shameful 
fact,  that  the  popular  means  of  winning  wealth  contem- 
plate its  acquisition  without  a  particle  of  labor  be- 
stowed upon  its  production.  I  do  not  believe  that 
wealth  Avon  in  this  way  is  the  right  way.  There  is  a 
legitimate  business  of  mediation  between  producers  and 
consumers,  and  a  legitimate  line  of  service  to  both,  but 
further  than  this,  all  those  who  seek  for  wealth  without 
adding  a  grain  to  the  general  stock,  are  leeches, 
sponges,  nuisances. 

There  is  a  more  honorable  way.  There  are  legiti- 
mate offices  of  service  to  the  world  for  which  the  world 
will  pay  well ;  and,  in  one  of  these,  at  least,  every  man 
should  have  a  place,  and  there  do  the  work  of  his  life, 
winning  competence  as  he  will,  and  wealth  if  he  may. 
Wealth,  legitimately  acquired,  is  valuable,  and  it  is  only 
valuable  when  thus  acquired.  Honest  labor  for  the 
world  is  the  only  true  basis  of  wealth,  and  the  grand 
pre-requisite  for  its  enjoyment.  I  have  said  that  every- 
body looks  forward  to  the  time  when  he  can  retire  from 
business.  There  may  bo  something  in  this  beyond  the 
the  natural  laziness  of  men,  or  their  desire  for  case.  It 
may  be  that  some  intuition  of  the  soul  overleaps  its 
earthly  life,  and,  seeing  the  heavenly  goal  but  dimly, 


182  Gold-Foil. 

plants  its  reward  of  labor  on  this  side  the  river,  when 
it  should  be  placed  among  the  gardens  upon  the  other 
bank.  Be  that  as  it  may,  retiring  from  business  has 
most  commonly  proved  a  disastrous  operation. 

There  are  old  men  and  old  women  whose  work  of 
life  is  really  done,  and  who  may  in  peace  and  content 
sit  down  and  wait  their  mysterious  transit.  We  love 
these  weary  workers,  and  bid  them  be  happy.  But  a 
man  who  retires  from  business  before  the  work  of  life 
is  done,  in  the  full  possession  of  his  powers,  retires  from 
happiness  and  health.  His  stock  of  vitality  is  unexpend- 
ed ;  and  uneasy  and  discontented  must  his  life  be,  un- 
less that  vitality  find  an  outlet  through  legitimate  chan- 
nels. A  life  of  active  business  carves  deep  channels, 
and  it  is  very  hard  to  change  them.  Better  far  to  die 
in  the  old  harness  than  to  try  to  put  on  another.  But 
all  may  look  forward  to  an  age  of  leisure,  lying  in  the 
unknown  land,  where  powers,  trained  to  ease  of  action 
by  labor,  will  find  themselves  fed  by  a  vitality  immortal 
as  that  in  which  abide  the  springs  of  all  power. 


XVI. 

THE  SINS  OF  OUR  JTEIGHBORS. 

"  You  liavo  dally  to  do  with  the  Devil,  and  pretend  to  be  frightened  at  a 
mouse." 

"  Don't  measure  other  people's  corn  by  your  own  bushel." 

r  INHERE  is  little  in  the  conduct  and  condition  of 
JL  men  that  is  not  the  subject  of  a  false  valuation ; 
and  I  can  imagine  nothing,  save  larger  hearts  and  more 
plentiful  brains,  that  would  be  of  so  much  use  to  the 
world  as  a  catalogue  of  sins,  arranged  upon  an  intelli- 
gible scale,  so  that  their  comparative  enormity  might 
be  settled  at  a  glance.  Such  a  catalogue  might  serve 
a  good  purpose,  generally,  perhaps,  by  pointing  out  the 
real  sinners  of  the  world,  and  thus  bringing  the  mate- 
rials of  society  to  their  true  level ;  but  its  chief  bene- 
fits would  inure  to  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  over- 
estimating their  own  virtues,  under-estimating  their 
own  vices,  attaching  fictitious  importance  to  the  sins  of 


184  Gold-Foil. 

others,  and  clothing  in  the  crimson  of  crime  acts  and 
practices  as  harmless  and  sinless  as  the  prattle  of  chil- 
dren, as  well  as  to  those  who 

"  Compound  for  sins  they  are  inclined  to, 
By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to." 

There  are  men,  for  instance,  who  attach  a  peculiar 
merit  to  the  entertainment  of  a  certain  set  of  theo- 
logical opinions — who  entertain  those  opinions  very  de- 
cidedly, and  maintain  them  wonderfully  well,  while 
they  make  dissent  an  absolute  sin,  and  regard  dissenters 
with  pity  and  contempt.  There  are  men  who  judge 
their  neighbors  with  great  uncharitableness ;  who  drive 
hard  bargains;  who  gamble  in  stocks;  who  are  self- 
righteous  and  censorious;  who  fail  in  tenderness  to- 
ward God's  poor ;  who  never  pay  what  they  ought  to 
pay  for  the  support  of  the  religious  institutions  to 
which  they  are  attached,  yet  who  would  consider  a  social 
dance  in  their  own  parlor  a  terrible  sin,  and  a  game  of 
whist  a  high  crime  that  should  call  down  the  judgments 
of  Heaven.  There  are  men  who  stalk  about  the  world 
gloomy,  and  stifi",  and  severe — self-righteous  embodi- 
ments of  the  mischievous  heresy  that  the  religion  of 
peace  and  good-will  to  all  mankind — the  religion  of 
love,  and  hope,  and  joy — the  religion  that  bathes  the 
universal  human  soul  in  the  light  of  parental  love,  and 
opens  to  mankind  the  gates  of  immortality — is  a  re- 


The  Sins  of  our  Neighbors.  185 

ligion  of  terror — men  guilty  of  misrepresenting  Christ 
to  the  world,  and  doing  incalculable  damage  to  his 
cause,  yet  who  find  it  in  them  to  rebuke  the  careless 
laughter  that  bubbles  up  from  a  maiden's  heart  that 
God  has  filled  with  life  and  gladness. 

This  fallacious  estimate  of  the  respective  qualities  and 
magnitudes  of  sins  has  not  only  blinded  the  reason  and 
befooled  the  conscience  of  the  world,  but  it  has  spoiled 
its  language  by  parallel  processes  of  exaggeration  and 
emasculation.  Little  words,  that  legitimately  repre- 
sent little  things,  have  become  monstrous  words,  repre- 
senting monstrous  things.  Great  sins  have  pleasant 
words  attached  to  them,  which  serve  as  masks  by  which 
they  find  their  way  into  good  society  without  suspicion. 
Individual  notions — no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  at 
first — have  spread  themselves  into  overshadowing  ec- 
clesiastical dogmas.  Phrases  have  been  invested  by  the 
schools  with  illegitimate  meanings  and  deceptive  sanc- 
tity. The  age  is  an  age  of  words,  and  is  ruled  by 
words  rather  than  things ;  and  there  is  hardly  one  of 
them  that  has  not  shrunk  from  its  original  garments,  or 
outgrown  them.  Men  are  saved  by  words,  and  damned 
by  words.  Religion  rides  the  nominal  and  casuistry 
the  technical ;  and  the  unfortunate  wight  who  does  not 
get  out  of  the  way  will  be  crushed  by  words,  or  run 
through  by  a  fatal  phrase. 

The  religious  newspapers  of  the  day  are  full  of 


186  Gold-Foil. 

quarrels  about  words — quarrels  instituted  in  the  name 
of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  carried  on  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Prince  of  Darkness — quarrels  over  non-essential 
matters  of  opinion — quarrels  growing  out  of  rivalries 
of  sects — quarrels  fed  by  the  fires  of  human  passion — 
quarrels  maintained  by  the  pride  of  opinion  and  by  the 
ambition  for  intellectual  mastery — quarrels  whose  only 
tendency  is  to  disgust  the  world  with  the  religion  in 
whose  behalf  they  are  professedly  instituted,  and  to 
fret,  and  wound,  and  divide  the  followers  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Yet  these  same  religious  papers  will  deplore 
the  personal  collision  of  two  drunken  congressmen  in 
the  streets  of  Washington  as  a  sad  commentary  on  the 
degeneracy  of  the  age,  and  moralize  solemnly  over  a 
dog-fight.  They  can  lash  each  other  with  little  mercy 
— they  can  call  each  other  names,  abuse  each  other's 
motives,  misconstrue  each  other's  language,  criminate 
and  recriminate,  but  faint  quite  away  with  seeing  a  cart- 
horse over-whipped,  or  a  race-horse  over-tasked.  They 
have  daily  to  do  with  the  devil,  and  pretend  to  be 
frightened  at  a  mouse. 

What  is  true  of  the  controversial  religious  news- 
papers, is  true,  I  fear,  of  a  great  many  Christian  men 
and  women.  They  have  pet  sins — poodle  sins — with 
silky  white  hair — sins  held  in  by  a  social  collar  and  a 
religious  ribbon — that  bark  at  good  honest  dogs,  or 
imaginary  dogs,  although  their  little  eyes  are  red  with 


The  Sins  of  our  Neighbors.  187 

the  devil  that  is  in  them.  As  sectarians,  they  are  given 
to  slander.  They  speak  disparagingly  of  those  who 
differ  with  them  in  belief.  They  judge  uncharitably 
those  who  engage  in  practices  which  only  their  particu- 
lar dictionary  makes  diabolical.  They  blacken  a  mul- 
titude of  good  deeds  by  dipping  them  into  bad  mo- 
tives of  their  own  steeping.  ISTow,  if  I  were  called 
upon  to  decide  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  least  sinful 
in  itself,  and  the  least  demoralizing  in  its  tendency — 
the  traducing  of  one  of  Christ's  disciples  by  another  of 
Christ's  disciples,  or  engaging  in  or  witnessing  a  horse- 
race— I  should  turn  my  back  on  the  traducer  and  shake 
hands  with  the  jockey. 

I  know  men  not  religious,  who  bear  about  an  ex- 
ceedingly sensitive  idea  of  honor  that  scorns  all  little- 
ness and  meanness  and  trickery — chivalrous  men — 
reliable  men — men  really  of  pure  lives  and  honest  and 
honorable  impulses — yet  men  so  warped  in  their  reason 
and  their  moral  nature  that  they  will  follow  their  party 
leaders  through  all  the  treacheries,  perjuries,  and  in- 
nomiuablc  rascalities  that  party  leaders,  driven  to  des- 
perate straits,  can  invent ;  who  stand  squarely  up  to 
the  endorsement  of  deceit,  injustice,  robbery,  and  mur- 
der ;  who  pamper  and  patronize  the  most  brutal  and 
dangerous  elements  of  society,  and  who  give  money  to 
be  used  for  party  purposes  that  they  have  no  reasona- 
ble doubt  will  be  directed  to  the  corruption  of  the  bal- 


188  Gold-Foil. 

lot-box.  I  know  women  of  delicate  instincts  and  really 
modest  natures  who  turn  the  cold  shoulder  to  a  fallen 
sister — passing  her  with  a  shuddering  sense  of  pollu- 
tion— yet  who  gladly  associate  with,  and  even  marry, 
men  who  are  notorious  for  their  infamous  gallantries — 
yielding  to  the  salute  of  the  seducer  the  lip  that  curled 
with  scorn  in  the  presence  of  his  victim. 

I  have  dealt  thus  far  in  matters  of  fact.  They  are 
patent ;  everybody  apprehends  them.  I  will  go  still 
further  in  these  matters  of  fact,  and  declare  that  it 
may  be  recorded,  as  a  rule  pretty  universally  reliable, 
that  a  man  or  woman  who  is  particularly  severe  upon 
the  minor  sins  of  mankind — who  lacks  compassion  for 
the  fallen,  and  consideration  for  the  weak  and  tempted 
— carries,  nine  times  in  ten,  a  large  sin,  with  a  little 
name,  in  the  sleeve.  Those  who  see  much  to  find  fault 
with  in  others,  and  who  are  prone  to  magnify  and 
dwell  upon  the  shortcomings  of  their  neighbors,  are 
those  who  have  an  interest  in  depreciating  the  life  and 
character  around  them.  Men  do  not  work  for  nothing. 
They  work  for  pay ;  and  when  I  see  one  who  seems 
particularly  desirous  of  depreciating  others,  I  know  it 
is  only  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  them  down  to  the 
mean  standard  which  he  is  conscious  measures  his  own 
life. 

Is  this  uncharitable  ?    I  think  not.    Is  it  not  al- 
ways the  purest  woman  who  is  the  last  to  suspect  im- 


The  Sins  of  our  Neighbors.  189 

purity  in  other  women,  the  most  unwilling  to  believe 
ill  of  her  neighbor,  the  first  charitably  to  palliate  the 
offences  of  those  who  fall,  and  the  first  to  give  them 
the  hand  of  sympathy  ?  Is  not  the  Christ  within  them 
always  saying — "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go,  and 
sin  no  more  ?  "  Is  it  not  always  the  noblest  man  who 
deals  the  easiest  with  the  foibles  of  his  neighbor  ?  Is 
it  not  always  the  best  man  who  is  busiest  with  looking 
after  his  own  sins,  and  who  has  neither  time  nor  dispo- 
sition to  discover  and  denounce  those  of  others  ?  Is  it 
not  always  the  most  Christlike  Christian  who  esteems 
others  better  than  himself,  and  who  modestly  re- 
gards his  own  heart  as  altogether  untrustworthy  ?  I 
think  so. 

"Who  art  thou  that  judgest  another  man's  ser- 
vant?" "Who  gave  you  authority  to  measure  other 
people's  corn  by  your  particular  bushel  ?  Who  gave 
you  liberty  to  thrust  forward  your  fallible  judgment, 
your  warped  and  weak  reason,  your  little  notions,  your 
uncharitable  heart,  your  long  and  lathy  creed,  and  your 
rule  of  life  taken  at  second  hand,  and  badly  damaged 
at  that — as  the  standard  of  the  great  world's  life  ? 
Why  will  you  be  always  sallying  out  to  break  lances 
with  other  people's  wind-mills,  when  your  own  is  not 
capable  of  grinding  corn  for  the  horse  you  ride  ? 
Doubtless  the  world  is  wicked  enough,  but  it  will  not 
1)0  improved  by  the  extension  of  a  spirit  which  self- 


190  Gold-Foil. 

righteously  sees  more  to  reform  outside  of  itself  than 
in  itself.  Doubtless  there  are  great  sins,  practiced  by 
multitudes  of  men,  but  they  will  hardly  be  diminished 
by  those  who  bring  into  the  enterprise  of  extermi- 
nation  a  greater  amount  of  baggage  than  they  can 
defend. 

It  so  happens,  in  the  great  economy  of  life,  that 
there  is  but  one  thing  by  which  men  may  legitimately 
be  judged  ;  and  that  is  the  heart.  It  so  happens,  also, 
that  only  the  Being  who  made  it  is  capable  of  judging 
it.  If  we  are  determined  to  measure  every  thing  de- 
veloped by  the  life  around  us  by  our  own  bushel,  let  us 
first  of  all  go  to  the  divine  standard,  and  get  our  bush- 
els "sealed."  Let  us  endeavor  to  apprehend  some- 
thing of  the  infinite  love  which  flows  out  unmeasured 
from  the  Father's  heart  to  every  creature  proceeding 
from  the  Father's  hand.  Let  us  recognize  that  essen- 
tial fact  in  the  human  constitution  which  renders  uni- 
formity of  belief  and  faith  with  relation  to  all  truth, 
and  identity  of  action  from  identity  of  motive,  im- 
possible. 

There  are  no  twin  souls  in  God's  universe.  Each 
stands  alone  in  its  relation  to  each  particular  truth 
within  the  range  of  its  apprehension.  In  the  field  of 
life,  each  has  its  standpoint,  from  which  it  obsenres, 
and  at  which  it  receives  impressions  from  all  the  facts, 
persons,  and  phenomena  of  the  field.  This  round  world 


The  Sins  of  our  Neighbors.  191 

of  ours  rolls  ceaselessly  in  the  sea  of  light  poured  from 
the  exhaustless  fountains  of  the  sun.  All  around  it, 
thick  strewn  with  stars,  bends  the  blue  firmament.  It 
seems  to  every  man  as  if  he  were  standing  in  the  centre 
of  the  world.  The  heaven  that  swells  above  him, 
skirted  by  a  horizon  that  may  be  narrow  or  broad,  is 
the  true  heaven.  The  constellated  lights  that  rise  and 
set  upon  his  vision  have  relation  to  him  as  a  kind  of 
sentient  centre.  That  which  is  up,  is  necessarily  above 
his  head,  where  his  sun  shines  and  his  moon  sails  ;  that 
which  is  down  is  beneath  his  feet ;  and  he  can  hardly 
conceive  why  his  antipodes  do  not  die  of  apoplexy,  or 
drop  out  of  the  system  of  things  into  the  ethereal  abyss. 
So  this  world  of  human  life  revolves,  a  perfect  sphere, 
ill  the  eye  of  God.  So  embracing  it  all  around — a 
fathomless  heaven  at  every  angle  and  aspect — sweeps 
the  firmament  of  his  love,  on  which  eternal  principles 
glow  with  steady  flame,  holding  to  rhythm  and  har- 
mony the  constellated  truths  which  wheel  around  and 
among  them.  It  doubtless  seems  to  every  soul  that  it 
sits  in  the  centre  of  all  this  great  system  of  things — 
that  God  is  directly  above  it — that  the  essential  truths 
which  have  relation  to  life  are  those,  and  only  those, 
that  come  within  the  range  of  its  vision  ;  and  it  won- 
ders how  other  souls  can  possibly  live  and  thrive  while 
looking  out  upon  God  and  the  firmament  of  love  and 
truth  from  other  points  of  vision.  Yet,  as  a  matter  of 


192  Gold-Foil. 

fact,  all  Christian  men  see  the  same  sun,  and  the  same 
heaven  of  truth — only  they  see  them  from  different 
angles. 

I  am  aware  that  the  two  subjects  which  I  have  as- 
sociated together  in  this  article  only  touch  each  other 
at  certain  points ;  but  those  are  important  ones,  and 
justify  that  which  might  otherwise  appear  far-fetched 
and  arbitrary.  My  aim  has  simply  been  to  arouse  the 
mind  of  the  reader  to  a  more  just  and  impartial  esti- 
mate of  those  acts  denominated  sins,  and  to  refer  the 
minds  of  those  who  are  inclined  to  sit  in  judgment 
upon  their  fellows,  to  the  legitimate  standard  of  judg- 
ment. A  man  docs  not  necessarily  sin  who  does  that 
which  our  reason  and  our  conscience  condemn.  A 
man  is  not  necessarily  in  error  who  entertains  views 
and  opinions  widely  different  from  ours.  We  are  con- 
stantly prone  to  fix  arbitrary  values  upon  our  own 
good  deeds,  and  to  exaggerate  evils  that  we  see  in 
other  systems  of  belief,  and  sins  that  we  see  in  other 
men.  The  true  Christian  charity  is  doubtless  that 
which  grows  out  of  true  Christian  love.  Essential 
Christian  brotherhood  is  doubtless  based  in  the  com- 
mon possession  and  entertainment  of  the  divine  life, 
though  that  life  exist  amid  error  and  sin  and  igno- 
rance, through  the  wide  range  of  differing  beliefs.  But 
if  we  cannot  have  these  realized  as  we  would  have 
them,  we  can  have  something  which  counterfeits  them, 


The  Sins  of  our  Neighbors.  193 

and  is  better,  on  the  whole,  than  nothing.  We  can 
have  a  charity  growing  out  of  a  common  conscious- 
ness of  weakness,  shortsightedness  and  sin,  and  a  broth- 
erhood of  common  imperfection. 


xvn. 

THE  CANONIZATION  OF  THE  VICIOUS. 

"  Carrion  crows  bewail  the  dead  sheep,  and  then  eat  them." 
" '  Ladies  have  ladies'  whims,'  said  Crazy  Ann,  when  she  draggled  her  cloak 
In  the  gutter." 

"The  dog  gets  into  the  mill  under  cover  of  the  ass." 
"  Ho  that  spares  vice  wrongs  virtue." 

AS  there  is  one  class  of  men  in  the  world  which  is 
interested  in  magnifying  the  sins  of  others,  so 
there  is  another,  hardly  less  numerous,  bent  upon  mak- 
ing the  sins  of  others  respectable.  Out  of  this  disposi- 
tion and  policy  spring  many  of  the  celebrations  of  the 
birth-days  of  men  whose  lives  have  successfully  asso- 
ciated splendid  genius  with  ungovernable  passions,  great 
intellectual  achievements  with  detestable  vices,  and  ad- 
mirable works  with  weak  or  wicked  lives.  So  far  has 
this  been  carried,  that  there  exists,  more  or  less  defi- 
nite, in  the  public  mind,  the  impression  that  great  genius 


The  Canonization  of  the  Vicious.       195 

and  low  morals  are  generally  found  together,  and  that, 
in  some  way,  the  former  justifies,  and,  in  some  in- 
stances, even  glorifies,  the  latter.  A  drunken  physician 
is  supposed  to  be  very  much  better  than  any  other  phy- 
sician, "  if  you  can  only  catch  him  when  he  is  sober," 
and  it  is  imagined  that  there  is  somewhere  a  mysterious 
but  very  fruitful  connection  between  the  disposition  to 
sottishness  and  skill  in  the  treatment  of  disease. 

I  believe  it  is  universally  conceded  that  "  the  Man 
Christ  Jesus "  lived  a  purer  life  than  any  other  man, 
sympathized  with  the  poor  and  the  lowly  as  no  other 
man  ever  sympathized,  did  more  for  the  comfort  and 
the  elevation  of  the  humble  and  the  wretched  than 
any  other,  impressed  himself  upon  the  civilization  of 
the  world  beyond  ah1  predecessors  and  successors,  and 
revealed  a  religion  which,  over-arching  all  the  elabora- 
tions of  human  philosophy,  imparts  to  them  whatever 
of  significance  they  possess,  and  holds  in  itself  alone 
the  power  of  regenerating  humanity ;  but,  outside  of 
the  church,  there  are  none  who,  of  their  own  motion, 
meet  to  celebrate  his  birth-day.  I  have  never  heard  of 
the  celebration  of  the  birth-day  of  John  Milton,  the 
great  bard  who  sat  in  darkness,  and  evolved  his  more 
than  mortal  dreams,  and  who,  grappling  with  immortal 
themes,  wrested  from  them  immortality  for  himself  and 
the  language  in  which  he  wrote.  I  see  no  tributes  paid 
by  the  world  to  the  memory  of  Montgomery.  I  never 


196  Gold-Foil. 

had  the  opportunity  of  drinking  a  toast  to  the  gentle 
Christian,  Cowper,  or  filling  a  bumper  to  Isaac  Watts, 
whose  lyric  muse  has  given  wings  to  more  hearts  bur- 
dened with  praise  and  surcharged  with  aspiration  than 
that  of  any  other  man  since  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel. 
I  have  never  had  an  invitation  to  a  dinner  given  to  the 
memory  of  Howard,  whose  life  was  one  of  Humanity's 
most  touching  poems ;  or  attended  a  supper  in  honor 
of  Martin  Luther.  I  find  the  great  of  the  world — who 
were  good  in  their  greatness  and  great  in  their  good- 
ness— pretty  generally  let  alone  by  the  men  who  are 
accustomed  to  express  their  obligations  to  those  who 
have  been  pre-eminent  in  government,  literature,  and 
art,  while  the  memory  of  men  whose  weaknesses  called 
for  an  extra  cloak  of  pity,  and  whose  vices  made  sight 
drafts  on  all  the  ready  charity  in  the  market,  were 
toasted  to  the  echo. 

No  great  man  who  has  scandalized  his  age  by  his 
personal  vices,  or  done  violence  to  the  avowed  princi- 
ples of  his  public  life  by  a  great  apostasy,  can  fall  with- 
out drawing  to  his  funeral  all  the  apostates  around  him 
— men  clinging  to  him  by  the  sympathy  of  vice  and 
falsehood,  and  using  that  sympathy  as  a  platform  which 
shall  elevate  them  into  the  respectability  which  his  ge- 
nius won  for  him.  Even  the  manes  of  Tom  Paine  is 
annually  summoned  into  the  congenial  atmosphere  of 
the  banquet-hall,  to  make  respectable  by  its  power  and 


The  Canonization  of  the  Vicious.      197 

fire  an  infidelity  and  libertinism  which  stink  in  the  nos- 
trils of  a  Christian  nation,  and  which  otherwise  would 
suffocate  themselves  in  their  own  effluvia. 

Everybody  knows  how  it  is  with  the  memory  of 
Burns.  It  cannot  well  be  doubted  that  more  revellers 
assemble  every  year  to  celebrate  his  memory,  through 
sympathy  with  the  steaming  whiskey  which  he  loved  so 
well,  than  with  the  aroma  of  his  genius.  "  Poor  Burns ! " 
they  exclaim ;  "  what  a  pity  he  drank ! "  "  Gifted 
Burns !  Child  of  Nature !  Let  us  forgive  him  that  his 
gifts  were  not  dedicated  to  the  promotion  of  the  purity 
which  hallows  the  names  of  mother,  sister,  and  wife ! " 
"  Sad  dog,  that  Burns !  True,  he  loved  wine  and  wo- 
men ;  but  then,  didn't  he  suffer  for  it  ?  Let  us  com- 
passionate him.  He  wasn't  so  much  to  blame,  after  all. 
The  only  wonder  is  how  a  man,  with  the  tremendous 
fire-works  he  had  in  him,  did  not  blow  up  with  the  first 
flash  of  a  woman's,  eyes  that  smote  him."  And  thus, 
the  carrion  crows  bewail  the  dead  sheep,  and  then  eat 
them.  Thus,  with  cloaks  covered  with  the  mud  of  the 
gutter,  they  flock  together  to  contemplate  the  mud 
that  a  prostituted  genius  has  gathered  upon  its  gar- 
ments,  and  foster  their  self-complacency  by  charitably 
transmuting  its  sins  into  whims.  Thus  the  dogs  en- 
deavor to  get  into  the  mill  under  cover  of  the  ass. 

One  of  the  most  mischievous  and  fallacious  of  the 
current  notions  of  an  easily-erring  world  I  conceive  to 


198  Gold-Foil. 

be  that  which  makes  the  possession  of  great  gifts,  and 
the  achievement  of  great  works,  an  offset  to,  or  an 
apology  for,  indulgence  in  vices  which  compromise  in- 
dividual and  social  purity,  and  outbreaks  of  passion  that 
come  within  the  cognizance  of  the  police.  I  believe 
that  I  respect  all  there  is  to  be  respected  in  the  memory 
of  Burns;  but  he  was  a  weak — in  many  respects  a 
vicious — and,  in  most  respects,  a  miserable — man.  He 
was  the  slave  of  a  debasing  appetite,  and  though,  at 
brief  intervals,  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  higher 
and  purer  inspirations  that  floated  down  to  him  from 
heaven,  he  loved  to  put  them  aside,  and  envelop  him- 
self in  an  atmosphere  of  sensuality.  If  he  had  a  manly 
sense  of  manhood,  wakened  into  life  by  the  arrogance 
of  wealth  and  place,  it  found  its  Issue  in  words  and  not 
in  life.  It  was  the  outburst  of  a  protesting  impulse 
rather  than  the  self-assertion  of  a  principle  standing  in 
the  centre  of  the  motive  forces  of  his  being. 

Burns  has  left  enough  upon  record  to  show  that  he 
possessed  the  subtlest  apprehension  of  all  that  is  noble 
in  religion,  all  that  is  sweet  and  pure  in  woman,  all  that 
is  strong  and  fruitful  in  manly  virtue,  and  all  that  is 
praiseworthy  in  individual  and  national  character.  His 
best  poem,  "  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  is  a  reve- 
lation, clear  as  light,  of  his  knowledge  of  goodness,  and 
his  convictions  touching  that  which  is  noblest  and 
truest  in  life.  By  a  kind  of  necessity  he,  and  all  the 


The  Canonization  of  the  Vicious.      199 

brotherhood  of  vice-enslaved  genius,  have  been  made 
to  reveal  such  a  degree  of  knowledge  of  the  truest 
truth  and  the  best  goodness,  that  all  apology  for  their 
inconsistent  and  inconstant  lives  must  be  gratuitous. 
If  great  men  have  great  passions,  they  have  great 
minds  with  which  to  regulate  and  keep  them  in  subjec- 
tion ;  and  in  the  degree  in  which  God  has  given  them 
power  to  move  the  hearts  and  attract  the  admiration 
of  men,  are  they  bound  to  teach,  by  word  and  pen,  and 
exemplify  by  life,  that  which  is  truest  and  best  in  their 
convictions,  and  divinest  in  their  faculties. 

There  is  an  abundance  of  vice  in  the  world  that  le- 
gitimately calls  for  our  charity,  but  it  is  not  that  which 
is  associated  with  such  genius  as  fully  apprehends  the 
beauty  and  the  claims  of  virtue.  Goethe  is  one  of  the 
great — Goethe,  "the  many  sided  man,"  Goethe,  the 
man  of  science,  the  poet,  the  philosopher — yet  his  life 
was  almost  an  unmitigated  nuisance.  If  he  ever  failed 
to  be  a  curse  to  a  woman  with  whom  he  was  thrown 
into  association,  it  was  not  because  he  failed  in  effort 
for  that  end.  The  beast  that  was  in  him  toyed  through 
more  than  a  filthy  half  century  with  the  most  delicate 
instincts  and  the  most  sacred,  sympathies  of  the  female 
nature.  Yet  there  are  those  who  beg  us  not  to  judge 
Goethe  too  harshly — who  bid  us  remember  the  power 
of  his  passions  and  the  license  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived.  It  is  a  competent  answer  to  this  plea  to  say, 


200  Gold-Foil. 

that  Goethe  was  as  cool  a  man — a  man  as  thoroughly 
under  self-control — as  any  whose  history  we  know; 
and  that  he  flagrantly  scandalized  even  the  age  which 
is  thrust  forward  as  his  apology.  I  say,  that  to  treat 
such  a  life  as  his  with  any  thing  softer  than  downright 
execration — to  drape  it  with  the  velvet  of  charity,  and 
trim  it  with  silky  apologies,  is  an  outrage — direct  and 
indefensible — upon  the  cause  of  virtue  in  the  world. 

While  vice  is  made  venial  when  associated  with 
transcendent  powers ;  while  tributes  of  honor  are  of- 
fered to  the  memory  of  lives  perverted,  by  men  who 
have  a  covert  interest  in  making  perverted  lives  re- 
spectable ;  while  even  good  men  allow  their  admiration 
of  genius  to  soften  their  judgments  upon  its  prostitu- 
tion, and  substitute  for  a  well-earned  condemnation,  a 
magnanimous  gratuity  of  pity,  it  will  not  be  strange  if 
men  with  smaller  intellects  find  excuse  for  such  license 
of  appetite  and  passion  as  they  may  see  fit  to  indulge  in. 

Our  literary  Pet  got  drunk,  and  sung  about  it,  in  a 
rollicking  way,  and  we  weep  and  smile  as  we  think  of 
the  debauchee,  and  say,  "  Poor  Pet ! "  Tom  Jones 
gets  drunk,  and  we  kick  him  as  he  lies  in  the  gutter, 
refuse  to  recognize  him  when  he  gets  upon  his  feet, 
and  blame  the  police  if  he  fail  to  get  into  the  watch- 
house.  Our  Pet,  armed  with  the  enginery  of  a  smooth 
tongue,  well  practiced  in  all  the  arts  of  intrigue  and 
deception,  besieges  the  citadel  of  a  woman's  heart, 


The  Canonization  of  the  Vicious.      201 

and,  standing  once  within  it,  sets  it  on  fire,  and  lays  it 
in  ashes.  We  sigh,  and  say,  "  Sad  Pet !  "  Tom  Jones 
betrays  the  confidence  of  his  neighbor's  daughter,  in 
imitation  of  Our  Pet's  example,  and  gets  his  brains 
blown  out,  and  we  say  it  served  him  right.  Our  Pet 
was  improvident.  He  spent  his  money  without  a 
thought  of  the  debts  he  owed,  or  the  cash  he  had  bor 
rowed;  and  we  say,  " Unfortunate  Pet !  He  did  not 
seem  to  know  any  thing  of  the  value  of  money !  "  Tom 
Jones  borrows  money,  runs  in  debt,  and  forgets  to 
pay ;  and  we  conclude  that  the  rascal  has  no  very 
acute  sense  of  moral  obligation — in  fact,  that  Tom 
Jones  is  a  swindler.  Now,  I  have  an  idea  that  a  moral 
code  that  is  good  enough  for  Our  Pet  is  good  enough 
for  Tom  Jones,  and  that  Tom  Jones  has  good  cause  of 
complaint  when  treated  more  harshly  by  the  decent 
public  than  his  great  exemplar. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  indulgence  with 
which  great  men  are  treated  by  the  world,  in  their 
moral  obliquities  and  eccentricities,  has  much  to  do  in 
making  them  what  they  are.  An  unprincipled  man  of 
genius  who  can  achieve  and  maintain  power  over  the 
minds  of  good  men,  independently  of  his  moral  charac- 
ter, and  secure  at  the  same  time  the  sympathy  and  sup- 
port of  bad  men,  by  participating  in  their  vices,  Avill 
always  do  both.  The  prevalent  disposition  which  I  see 
on  all  sides  to  make  heroes  and  martyrs  of  the  infamous 
9* 


202  Gold-Foil. 

great,  amounts  to  a  premium  on  all  that  is  despicable 
and  horrible  in  unbridled  ambition  and  limitless  lust. 
What  means  the  attempt  of  the  world's  greatest  living 
writer  to  apotheosize  the  brute  whose  choice  it  was  to 
be  buried  with  his  horse  ?  What  will  its  effect  be  but 
to  obliterate  moral  distinctions,  and  lift  up  for  imita- 
tion a  character  as  much  out  of  place  in  this  Christian 
age  as  a  wild  boar  would  be  in  a  conference  meeting  ? 

Within  the  last  three  years,  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  hearts  have  been  turned  in  sympathy  and  affection 
toward  the  character  and  life  of  one  who  sacrificed  upon 
the  altar  of  his  rabid  ambition  hecatombs  of  his  country- 
men, and  filled  all  Europe  with  the  wails  and  curses  of 
widows  and  orphans, — of  one  who  had  no  God  higher 
than  Fate,  acknowledged  no  leader  but  Destiny,  and 
who,  in  following  her,  put  to  shame  all  of  manhood  in 
mankind  by  trampling  under  bis  feet  a  true  heart  and 
a  sacred  vow,  that  the  Devil  might  give  him  the  child 
that  God  had  denied  to  him.  What  will  the  effect  of 
this  be  upon  ambitious  natures,  but  to  prove  that  a  man 
has  only  to  use  all  of  the  world  he  can  lay  his  hands  on 
for  selfish  ends,  to  secure  the  services  of  a  Christian 
eulogist  ?  Even  Aaron  Burr,  the  infamous  traitor, 
murderer,  and  libertine,  finds  a  man  to  speak  well  of 
him — praise  only  assuming  the  significance  of  a  harm- 
less joke,  in  consequence  of  the  freshness  of  the  stench 
which  his  memory  has  left  behind  him. 


The  Canonization  of  the  Vicious.      203 

Over  all  that  realm,  where  high  or  humble  mind  is 
struggling  honestly  with  the  great  problems  that  con- 
cern its  spiritual  life  and  its  immortal  destiny — strug- 
gling toward  the  light  through  devious  ways  of  error — 
I  would  see  a  broad-winged  liberality  spread  its  lumi- 
nous shadow.  To  all  those  whose  education  in  the 
truth  has  been  limited,  whose  circumstances  of  life 
have  been  adverse  to  the  development  of  purity,  who 
are  weak  and  ignorant,  and  low  in  instinct  and  aspira- 
tion, I  would  extend  a  charity  that  pities  while  it 
blames,  and  considers  while  it  condemns.  But  to  sin 
in  high  places — among  men  and  women  who  are 
crowned  kings  and  queens  in  the  realm  of  intellect — 
those  whose  brows  have  been  lifted  into  God's  own 
light,  and  whose  tongues  and  pens  reveal  something  of 
the  divinity  which  struggles  to  enthrone  itself  in  them 
— no  excuses,  no  palliations,  no  patronage.  Over  a 
great,  bad  life,  let  us  sigh  once,  and  then  be  silent ;  and 
when  we  choose  among  the  memories  of  memorable 
men  for  the  subject  of  a  public  tribute  or  a  personal 
eulogy,  let  us  take  one  out  of  which  shall  spring  in- 
spirations to  a  pure  life,  and  motives  to  a  noble  heroism. 
When  we  choose  heroes  for  deification,  let  them  at 
least  believe  in  the  God  who  made  them,  and  present 
a  life  for  delineation  and  contemplation  unblotched  by 
all  the  sins  forbidden  by  the  Decalogue. 

He  who  spares  vice  or  apologizes  for  it  in  the  high 


204  Gold-Foil. 

places  of  the  world,  wrongs  virtue  in  every  place.  He 
helps  the  good  to  look  upon  it  leniently,  and  thus  to 
lower  the  tone  of  morality  within  themselves.  He  as- 
sists the  bad  to  make  it  respectable,  and  thus  to  give 
them  warrant  and  license  in  its  imitation,  and  even  in 
its  emulation.  He  discourages  virtue  in  the  humble 
and  poor — the  great  masses  who  form  the  real  basis  of 
society,  and  upon  whose  goodness  and  truth  the  state 
must  rely  for  its  character  before  the  world,  and  its 
stability  in  the  world.  He  disturbs  the  moral  appre- 
hensions and  unsettles  the  moral  balance  of  all  to  whom 
his  words  and  influence  come.  Let  us  braid  no  more 
wreaths  to  hide  the  mark  of  Cain  on  the  brow  of  mur- 
der. Let  us  send  up  no  more  clouds  of  incense  to  veil 
the  front  of  shame.  The  intellect  will  bow,  if  it  must, 
but  let  it  be  with  a  protesting  tongue  and  arms  closely 
folded  over  the  heart ! 


XVIH. 

SOCIAL  CLASSIFICATION. 

"When  the  crane  attempts  to  dance  with  the  horse,  she  gets  broken 
bones." 

"  Like  plays  best  with  like." 

ult  Is  dangerous  to  eat  cherries  with  the  great;  they  throw  the  stones  at 
your  head," 

"  Like  seeks  like— a  scabbed  horse  and  a  sandy  dike." 

THERE  is  a  very  general  entertainment  of  the  fal- 
lacy that  all  the  distinctions  of  society  are  arti- 
ficial. I  «all  it  a  fallacy,  because  I  believe  it  to  be 
susceptible  of  proof  that  the  most  of  them  are  natural. 
The  aristocracy  of  a  town  or  state  is  always  founded 
upon  what  the  majority  of  the  people  of  such  town  or 
state  hold  to  be  the  chief  good.  No  class  arrogates  to 
itself  the  aristocratic  position  without  the  accordance, 
tacit  or  declared,  of  all  classes.  "Wherever  noble  family 
descent  is  popularly  regarded  as  the  most  honorable  of 
all  things,  aristocracy  is  founded  upon  blood.  Wher- 


206  Gold-Foil. 

ever  high  intellectual  culture  is  accounted  the  most 
honorable  of  all  possessions,  the  aristocracy  will  be 
composed  of  savans,  poets,  artists,  and  men  and  women 
of  brilliant  parts  and  attainments.  So,  too,  where 
money  is  regarded  universally  as  the  chief  good,  alike 
by  rich  and  poor,  the  aristocratic  element  will  reside 
in  wealth.  It  would  be  easy  to  cite  specimens  of  these 
varieties  of  aristocracy.  I  suppose  that  Paris,  as  the 
representative  of  France,  furnishes  an  instance  of  the 
aristocracy  of  talent  and  culture  ;  that  London  repre- 
sents England  in  its  aristocracy  of  blood,  and  that  New 
York  represents  America  in  the  aristocracy  of  wealth. 
In  each  of  these  types  there  is  a  blending  of  the  other 
two.  The  three  herd  together,  more  or  less,  but  the 
nucleus  is  distinct  in  each,  and  the  other  elements 
crystallize  around  it. 

So  I  say  that  the  aristocracy  of  any  country  is 
nothing  more  than  a  declaration,  in  conventional  form, 
cf  that  country's  sentiment  and  opinion  upon  the  chief 
earthly  end  of  man.  Every  aristocrat  is  made  such  by 
a  popular  vote  ;  and  by  the  same  vote  is  lie  endowed 
with  all  the  privileges,  immunities,  pride,  supercilious- 
ness, and  exclusiveness  which  are  supposed  to  pertain 
to  the  aristocratic  estate.  It  matters  nothing  how 
humble,  genial,  and  good  a  popularly  constituted  aristo- 
crat may  be,  he  gets  little  credit  for  it,  for  the  people 
regard  him  as  a  superior,  who  can  only  be  humble  by 


Social  Claffification.  207 

condescension,  genial  for  a  purpose,  and  good  by  ano- 
malous exception.  Having  entered  the  charmed  circle 
of  those  who  have  won  the  highest  prize  of  life,  his  old 
friends  forsake  him,  misconstrue  him,  and  force  him 
into  aristocratic  association,  whether  he  will  or  no. 
There  is  no  aristocratic  class  in  any  state  possessing  in- 
stitutions measurably  free,  which  can  sustain  itself  for 
ten  years  beyond  the  choice  and  voice  of  the  people. 

I  have  no  idea  that  while  human  society  exists 
there  will  fail  to  exist  an  aristocratic  element,  for  so 
long  as  human  society  exists  there  will  exist  a  popular 
ideal  of  a  chief  good,  the  achievement  of  that  good  by 
a  fortunate  few,  and  the  association  of  that  fortunate 
few,  by  natural  affinity  and  corresponding  position. 
If  this  class  exist,  other  classes  will  exist,  receding,  by 
grades  more  or  less  distinctly  defined,  to  the  lowest 
figure  of  the  scale — all  measurably  regulated  by  this 
idea  of  the  chief  good  and  the  degree  of  its  attain- 
ment ;  measurably,  I  say,  for  there  are  subordinate 
standards  of  respectability,  as  well  as  affinities  of  natu- 
ral temperament  and  business  pursuit,  that  come  in  as 
modifying  influences.  So  I  say  that  classes  exist  in 
society  by  a  law  as  immutable  as  any  law.  They  al- 
ways have  existed,  and  they  always  will — their  charac- 
ter determined  by  the  character  and  aims  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  their  relations  regulated  by  the  spirit  of  the 
people. 


208  Gold-Foil. 

On  this  track  of  general  statement  I  proceed  to  the 
lesson  of  this  article.  The  more  readily  to  arrive  at 
this  lesson,  let  us  institute  an  experiment.  Let  us 
bring  together,  to  form  a  single  social  assembly,  repre- 
sentatives from  each  of  the  classes  that  we  know,  and 
see  how  they  will  get  along  together.  Let  us  shut 
into  a  single  parlor  a  Marquis,  a  savan,  a  Croesus,  a 
farmer,  a  merchant,  a  tallow-chandler,  a  blacksmith,  an 
Irish  hod-carrier,  a  stage-driver,  a  dancing-master,  a 
fop,  a  fool,  and  a  fiddler.  They  come  together  for 
social  enjoyment ;  and  the  question  as  to  how  much 
of  that  article  they  will  be  able  to  obtain  is  that  to 
which  I  ask  an  answer.  All  the  probabilities  are 
against  any  thing  like  enjoyment.  There  are  no  tastes 
accordant,  no  pursuits  common,  no  habits  of  thought 
at  all  similar,  no  common  ground  of  communion.  I 
can  imagine  no  other  position  in  which  any  member  of 
the  company  could  be  placed  where  he  would  be  more 
utterly  miserable.  The  hod-carrier  would  probably 
feel  the  worst  of  the  whole  number,  and  would  wish 
himself  a  thousand  times  on  the  topmost  round  of  a 
seven-story  ladder,  while  only  the  fool  would  be  the 
subject  of  envy. 

We  should  have,  in  an  experiment  like  this,  the  de- 
monstration of  the  truth  of  one  of  our  proverbs,  that 
"  like  plays  best  with  like."  There  is  not,  and  there 
can  never  be,  social  enjoyment  without  social  sym- 


Social  Claffification.  209 

pathy.  In  all  healthfully  organized  social  life  there 
must  be  correspondence  of  position,  of  education,  of 
moral  sentiment,  and  of  habits  of  thotight  and  life — a 
correspondence  with  limits  of  variation  which  every 
class  tacitly  acknowledges.  This  sympathy  is  born  of 
facts,  and  not  of  will.  A  man  sees  a  circle  with  which 
he  has  had  no  association ;  and,  as  he  deems  its  en- 
trance desirable,  he  accomplishes  his  desire,  only  to 
find  himself  a  discordant  element,  and,  consequently, 
an  unhappy  one.  In  short,  there  is  a  class  with  which 
each  man  has  more  sympathy  than  with  any  other 
class, — a  class  in  which  he  finds  himself  the  happiest 
and  the  most  at  home.  Therefore  he  belongs  in  this 
class,  socially  ;  and  he  will  go  above  it,  if  there  be  any 
thing  above  it,  and  below  it,  if  there  be  any  thing  be- 
low it,  only  to  make  himself,  and  those  with  whom  he 
associates,  uncomfortable. 

I  have  frequently  noticed  the  operation  of  this  law 
in  a  large  circle  of  women  met  to  prosecute  an  object 
of  benevolence,  as  in  the  sewing  circles  connected  with 
the  various  religious  organizations.  They  meet  for  a 
common  object.  They  all  have  respect  for  each  other, 
and  a  pleasant  word  for  each  other.  There  are  no 
jealousies  and  no  rivalries.  They  pass  their  afternoon 
and  evening  happily,  and  separate  with  mutual  good 
feeling ;  yet  one  who  knows  them  all  sees  the  secret 
of  their  concord,  in  the  way  in  which  they  associate. 


210  Gold-Foil. 

Never,  unless  a  directly  opposing  design,  instituted  for 
a  purpose,  interfere,  do  they  mingle  indiscriminately. 
The  rooms  where  they  meet,  and  even  the  corners  of 
the  rooms,  are  so  many  nuclei  of  crystallization,  around 
which  sympathetic  social  elements  arrange  themselves 
for  communion  and  happiness.  They  follow  the  general 
law  inside  of  their  organization,  just  as  naturally  as 
they  do  out  of  it.  Like  talks  best  with  like,  laughs 
"  best  with  like,  works  best  with  like,  and  enjoys  best 
with  like ;  and  it  cannot  help  it.  Therefore,  let  like 
come  together  with  like  everywhere,  nor  seek  to  pre- 
vent it,  for  social  position,  under  the  general  law,  ele- 
vates no  one  and  depresses  no  one.  It  is  simply  a 
classification  of  individualities,  according  to  conditions 
and  sympathies  which  exist  independent  of  class,  and 
which  would  exist  all  the  same  were  they  not  brought 
into  association. 

I  have  thus  exhibited  what  I  believe  to  be  the 
rational  basis  of  social  classification — a  law  as  certain 
in  its  operation  as  the  law  of  chemical  affinity,  and  one 
which  I  believe  to  be  founded  in  unmixed  benevolence. 
I  have  done  it  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  the  un- 
reasonableness and  the  mischief  of  jealousy  between 
classes,  and  especially  that  entertained  by  classes  nomi- 
nally low  in  the  social  scale  toward  those  nominally 
high.  A  man  in  the  lower  class  may  be  as  good  as  a 
man  in  the  higher.  He  may,  in  fact,  be  much  better ; 


Social  Claffification.  211 

but  so  long  as  he  combines  with  others  in  making  the 
chief  earthly  good  to  reside  in  wealth  rather  than  wis- 
dom, in  gold  rather  than  goodness,  he  must  not  com- 
plain if  those  who  get  wealth  get  superior  position, 
while  wisdom  and  goodness  are  at  a  discount.  The 
spirit  and  aim  of  a  nation  inevitably  fix  the  basis  of  its 
aristocracy.  This  nation  is  mad  for  gold,  and  those 
who  get  it  will  inevitably  be  the  central  and  controlling 
element  in  the  nation's  highest  social  class.  There  is 
» no  way  under  heaven  to  change  this  fact  but  by  chang- 
ing the  popular  aim.  Make  high  culture  or  great  ex- 
cellence of  character  the  leading  aim  of  the  country, 
and  then  you  will  get  your  chance.  All  that  goodness 
and  wisdom  enjoy  of  social  eminence,  save  in  special 
localities,  is  through  the  patronage  of  wealth.  This  I 
state  as  the  general  fact  with  relation  to  this  country. 
In  other  countries,  where  the  leading  aristocratic  ele- 
ment resides  in  nobility,  or  intellectual  pre-eminence, 
these  respectively  become  the  patrons  of  the  elements 
thrown  into  inferior  relation. 

Every  man  is  a  common  centre  of  multiplied  circles 
of  association.  First  in  order  is  the  family  circle  ;  em- 
bracing that  is  the  circle  of  remoter  kindred ;  beyond 
that,  at  longer  or  shorter  distances,  sweeps  around  the 
social  circle.  Then  comes  the  circle  of  religious  fra- 
ternity ;  then  the  political  circle  ;  then  the  broad  circle 
of  human  brotherhood,  embracing  family,  kindred,  so- 


212  Gold-Foil. 

ciety,  the  church,  the  state,  and  the  world ;  and  still 
more  broadly  sweeping,  runs  the  golden  chain  that  en- 
closes each  soul  in  the  universe  within  the  sphere  of 
relation  to  all  created  intelligences.  These  are  all 
natural  circles — or  circles  dependent  on  natural  law  for 
their  definition.  Family  and  kindred  are  based  in  nat- 
ural affection,  growing  out  of  identity  of  blood.  So- 
ciety is  based  in  natural  affinity  and  similarity  and  sym- 
pathy of  position  and  pursuit.  The  church  is  formed 
by  sympathy  of  religious  belief;  the  state  by  a  common 
political  creed  and  common  institutions ;  and  so  on  to 
the  utmost  boundary  of  relationship.  From  each  minor 
circle  all  outside  of  it  are  shut  out ;  yet,  as  the  circles 
enlarge,  all  come  upon  a  common  level.  In  the  state, 
we  are  fellow-citizens ;  in  the  church,  we  are  Christian 
brethren.  In  all  our  higher  and  more  majestic  rela- 
tions, the  hands  of  mankind  are  joined.  We  sit  at  the 
same  communion  table,  we  bow  to  the  same  law  and 
the  same  Lord,  we  cast  an  equal  ballot. 

Now,  as  to  the  matter  of  duty  with  relation  to 
these  social  circles ;  no  man  should  despise  the  circle 
n  which  he  finds  himself,  but  should  seek  to  elevate 
and  make  it  better.  There  are  positions  of  power  and 
usefulness  in  each  circle,  worthy  of  any  man's  ambition ; 
while  the  entrance  to  ac other  circle,  nominally  higher, 
under  the  patronage  of  its  central,  controlling  element, 
is  a  disgrace  to  any  man.  A  man  willingly  patronized, 


Social  Claffification.  213 


is  a  man  voluntarily  disgraced  ;  and  a  man  who  seeks 
for  respectability  in  a  social  position  into  which  he  does 
not 'naturally  fall,  shows  himself  to  be  lacking  both  in 
sense  and  self-respect. 

Nothing  but  a  popular  change  in  the  standard  of 
respectability  can  ever  make  the  first  social  classes  in 
this  country  what  they  should  be  ;  and  that  change, 
sooner  or  later,  will  as  surely  come  as  the  redemption 
of  the  world  to  the  highest  type  of  Christian  manhood 
shall  come.  When  manhood  becomes  the  leading  ob- 
ject of  humanity,  then  the  books  of  heraldry,  and  the 
diplomas  of  the  schools,  and  the  ledgers  of  wealth,  will 
cease  to  furnish  passports  to  respectability.  Until  that 
period  shall  arrive,  wealth  and  blood  and  intellectual 
attainment,  without  the  slightest  reference  to  morality 
or  religion,  as  standards  of  character  and  life,  will  hold 
the  social  sway  of  the  world.  And  this  is  right.  It  is 
as  God  made  it,  and  would  have  it.  It  is  the  result  of 
the  operation  of  one  of  his  irreversible  laws.  It  is  the 
popular  penalty  of  a  popular  sin.  To  hasten  the  arrival 
of  that  period,  it  should  be  the  aim  of  every  man, 
laboring  faithfully  and  diligently  where  God  has  placed 
him,  to  elevate  the  standard  of  respectability  to  the 
place  where  God  would  have  it.  Whenever  the  great 
popular  voice  practically  declaims  that  Christian  man- 
hood is  the  chief  good,  Christian  manhood  will  take  its 
position  at  the  head  of  the  social  life  of  this  country, 


214  Gold-Foil. 

and  of  the  world.  Then,  if  a  man  be  not  admitted-  to 
it,  it  will  simply  be  because  he  is  not  good  enough ; 
for  like  will  come  together  with  like,  by  a  natural  law. 
I  would  not  say  that  there  is  no  Christian  manhood 
in  the  aristocracy  of  this  country.  I  believe  there  is — 
that  there  is  as  much  there  as  anywhere.  I  simply  say 
that  Christian  manhood  and  womanhood  are  not  cre- 
dentials which  of  themselves  secure  high  social  recog- 
nition. They  achieve  their  position  by  circumstance, 
and  not  by  character ;  for  the  successful  stock-gambler 
and  the  libertine  stand  side  by  side  with  them,  upon  an 
equal  footing.  That  this  fact  should  not  be,  is  very  evi- 
dent ;  that  this  fact  is,  is  chargeable  upon  all  classes 
alike ;  and  they  have  no  just  cause  of  quarrel  with  it,  so 
long  as  they  manifest  no  disposition  to  change  it,  by  in- 
stituting another  standard. 


XIX. 

THE  PRESERVATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

"  A  full  vessel  must  be  carried  carefully." 
"  He  is  so  full  of  himself  that  ho  is  quite  empty." 

44  If  you  had  had  fewer  friends  and  more  enemies  you  had  been  a  better 
man." 

"That  is  often  lost  in  on  hour  which  costs  a  lifetime." 

AX  observing  man  is  never  without  sources  of 
amusement,  and  it  is  certain  that  among  these 
sources  the  unconscious  devices  resorted  to  for  the 
creation  and  preservation  of  character,  in  the  eye  of 
the  world,  deserve  a  prominent  place.  We  meet  in 
every  town  men  who  feel  that  they  have  filled  up  the 
measure  of  their  character,  and  have  nothing  further  to 
do  in  life  but  to  bear  that  character,  like  a  full  vessel, 
to  their  graves,  without  spilling  a  drop.  They  walk  the 
streets  as  if  they  were  bearing  it  upon  their  heads. 
They  bow  to  their  acquaintances  with  the  conscious- 


216  Gold-Foil. 

ness  of  their  precious  burden  constantly  uppermost. 
They  refrain  from  all  complication  with  the  stirring 
questions  of  the  times  through  fear  of  a  fatal  jostle. 
They  speak  guardedly,  as  if  a  word  might  jar  their 
priceless  vase  from  the  poise  of  continence.  There  is 
nothing  so  important  to  them  as  what  they  are  pleased 
to  consider  their  character;  consequently,  that  is  al- 
ahvays  to  be  consulted  before  any  course  of  action  can 
be  determined  upon.  All  questions  of  morality  and 
reform,  all  matters  of  public  or  political  interest,  all 
personal  associations,  are  considered  primarily  with 
reference  to  this  character.  If  they  prove  to  be  con- 
sistent with  it,  and  seem  calculated  to  reveal  something 
more  of  its  glory,  they  are  entered  upon,  or  adopted  ; 
otherwise,  they  are  discarded. 

When  a  man  arrives  at  a  point  where  the  preserva- 
tion of  his  character  becomes  the  prime  object  of  his 
life,  he  may  be  considered  a  harmless  man,  but  one 
upon  whom  no  further  dependence  can  be  placed  in 
carrying  on  the  work  of  the  world.  As  a  member  of 
society,  he  becomes  strictly  ornamental.  We  point  to 
him  as  one  of  the  ripe  fruits  of  our  civilization.  We 
bring  him  out  on  great  occasions,  and  show  him.  We 
make  him  president  of  conventions  and  benevolent  as- 
sociations. We  introduce  strangers  to  him  that  they 
may  be  impressed.  We  chronicle  his  arrival  at  the  ho- 
tels. We  burn  incense  before  him,  because  we  know 


The  Prelervation  of  Character.        217 

it  will  please  him,  and  because  we  know  that  he  rather 
expects  it.  Small  children  regard  him.  in  respectful  si- 
lence as  he  passes.  He  becomes  one  of  our  institutions, 
like  a  City  Hall  or  an  old  church.  "We  always  know 
where  to  find  him,  as  we  do  a  well-established  town- 
line.  But  one  thing  we  never  do :  we  never  go  to  him 
in  an  emergency  that  demands  risk  and  self-sacrifice, 
because  we  know  that  those  things  are  not  in  his  line. 
His  character  is  the  first  thing,  and  that  is  to  be  taken 
care  of.  "When  we  want  any  thing  of  this  kind  done, 
we  go  to  men  who  have  no  character,  or,  having  one, 
are  not  uncomfortably  conscious  of  it. 

Good  and  harmless  as  these  people  usuaUy  are, 
sources  as  they  are  of  amusement  to  those  who  under- 
stand the  secret  springs  of  their  life,  fine  as  they  are 
when  regarded  as  specimens,  they  are,  nevertheless,  the 
victims  of  a  mistake.  Personal  character  with  them 
has  come  to  be  the  grand  object  of  life — personal 
character  as  a  thing  of  popular  repute,  when  it  should 
always  be  a  resultant  of  true  action,  instituted  for  un- 
selfish purposes.  The  meanest  and  the  most  illegiti- 
mate of  all  human  pursuits,  is  the  direct  pursuit  of  a 
reputation.  It  is  supremely  selfish  and  contemptible ; 
and  there  is  no  man  who  really  deserves  a  good  repu- 
tation who  does  not  make  its  acquisition  subordinate, 
as  an  aim,  in  all  his  actions.  A  man  whose  action  with 
relation  to  the  questions  that  come  before  him  is  regu- 
10 


218  Gold-Foil. 

lated  by  its  preconceived  effect  upon  his  character 
with  the  public,  is  entirely  untrustworthy,  and  will  be 
trusted  by  the  public  no  further  than  his  interest  is  seen 
to  coincide  with  the  wishes  of  the  public. 

Character  is  a  thing  that  will  take  care  of  itself; 
and  all  character  that  does  not  take  care  of  itself  is 
either  very  weak,  or  utterly  fictitious.  A  man  who 
does  as  nearly  right  as  possible,  according  to  the  dic- 
tates of  his  judgment  and  his  conscience,  Avill  achieve  a 
character  without  giving  a  thought  to  it,  so  that  all  at- 
tention bestowed  upon  the  direct  acquisition  of  char- 
acter before  the  public,  is  so  much  attention  wasted  and 
so  much  time  thrown  away.  By  their  works  are  we  to 
know  men ;  and  we  have  no  other  standard  by  which 
to  measure  them.  We  tolerate  a  harmless,  selfish  man, 
but  we  do  not  trust  him  with  our  interests.  The  most 
of  those  whom  we  find  supremely  devoted  to  the 
preservation  of  their  character,  won  their  character 
honestly  enough,  originally.  They  struck  out  boldly 
at  the  beginning  of  life,  did  nobly,  succeeded,  won  the 
praise  of  the  people,  and  then,  like  men  grown  rich, 
became  suddenly  conservative  and  timid.  Finding 
themselves  in  possession  of  a  character,  and  realizing 
something  of  the  preciousness  of  the  possession,  they 
immediately  began  to  nurse  it,  and  arrange  all  their  ac- 
tion with  relation  to  it.  Then  they  ceased  to  grow,  and 
retired  essentially  from  business. 


The  Prefer vation  of  Character.        219 

Much  better  would  it  have  been  for  all  of  this  class 
had  they  had  fewer  friends  and  more  enemies.  In  fact, 
there  is  a  fault  in  the  reputation  of  every  man  who  has 
no  enemies,  for  no  man  can  be  a  positive  power  in  the 
world,  moving  hi  right  lines  through  evils,  and  abuses, 
and  wrongs,  without  treading  upon  the  toes  of  some- 
body. As  this  world  is  constituted,  no  man  can  be 
without  enemies  unless  he  be  without  power,  or  unless 
he  adapt  himself  to  the  evils  and  the  evil  men  encoun- 
tered in  his  coui-se.  Consequently,  no  man  has  a  repu- 
tation which  is .  really  significant  and  valuable  that  is 
not  won  in  about  equal  measure  from  the  blessings  of 
one  class  and  the  curses  of  another.  The  praises  of  the 
good  are  no  better  testimonials  of  a  sound  and  valuable 
character  than  the  maledictions  of  the  bad.  In  fact, 
reputation  and  character  are  widely  different  things, 
though  they  are  so  closely  coupled  in  the  minds  of  those 
whom  we  are  discussing  that  they  sec  no  difference  be- 
tween them.  Character  lives  in  a  man ;  reputation  out- 
side of  him.  A  man  may  have  a  good  character  and 
no  reputation,  or  he  may  have  a  good  reputation  and 
no  character;  but  with  self  worshippers  they  arc  near- 
ly identical. 

Of  all  the  bondage  in  the  world  I  know  of  none 
more  senseless  and  useless  than  bondage  to  one's  char- 
acter or  reputation.  The  "  fogyism  "  and  "hunkerism  " 
of  politics,  and  the  rigid  conservatism  of  religious  opin- 


220  Gold-Foil. 

ion,  grow  mainly  out  of  this  bondage.  Consistency  is 
clung  to  with  almost  an  insane  tenacity.  It  is  more 
important  in  this  bondage  that  a  course  of  action  should 
be  consistent  with  a  man's  past  life  than  with  truth  and 
justice.  A  man's  past  is  elevated  as  the  highest  stand- 
ard of  his  present  and  his  future.  He  pledges  himself 
against  progress  by  making  his  present  character  and 
his  past  course  the  law  of  his  life.  He  clings  to  the  in- 
stitutions, the  opinions,  the  policy,  and  the  sentiments 
in  which  he  has  cast  his  life ;  and  when  these  are  gone, 
or  are  superseded,  he  clings  to  their  names,  and  so 
"  walks  in  vain  show."  If  a  party  dies,  it  does  not  die 
to  him ;  because,  if  he  were  to  admit  the  fact,  or  the 
idea,  of  its  death,  he  would  doubt  his  own  infallibility. 
If  an  institution  falls,  he  will  not  acknowledge  it,  for  it 
will  make  a  hole  in  a  reputation  which  he  considers 
compacted  and  complete.  No  man  who  progresses 
can  be  consistent  with  himself.  Maturity  cannot  be 
consistent  with  immaturity.  All  the  consistency  God 
requires  of  any  man,  or  approves  in  any  man,  is  consis- 
tency with  the  best  h'ght  of  the  present.  Let  the  dead 
bury  its  dead.  It  is  only  God  himself  who  has  even  the 
right  to  be  consistent  with  His  past  life. 

The  worthy  young  men  who  read  these  words  are 
dreaming  of  the  attainment  of  a  character  which  shall 
give  them  not  only  reputation — not  only  praise — but 
weight  in  the  world.  If  this  be  your  prime  object, 


The  Prefervation  of  Character.        221 

young  man,  you  are  very  likely  to  take  the  wrong 
course  and  make  wreck  of  yourself.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  if  you  do  right,  your  character  will  take  care  of 
itself,  no  less  than  your  reputation.  Serve  God  and 
your  generation  well,  leave  the  consideration  of  your 
character  and  yourself  behind,  seek  to  be  consistent 
with  the  highest  life  you  have,  be  not  afraid  to  change 
your  opinions  or  your  course  on  any  thing  if  you  think 
you  are  wrong,  and  God  and  your  generation  will  take 
care  of  you.  As  soon  as  it  is  seen  that  you  are  unself- 
ish, and  that  you  are  free  to  act  rightly  and  justly  with 
relation  to  whatever  comes  before  you,  a  place  in  the 
world  will  be  made  for  you,  and  work  will  be  given 
you  to  do.  Do  not  be  disheartened  if  you  make  ene- 
mies, for  if  you  are  really  a  good  power  in  the  world, 
you  will  be  sure  to  make  them.  I  do  not  say  that  a 
man  who  has  enemies  is  necessarily  a  good  man,  but  I 
do  say  that  no  man  can  be  a  good  power  in  the  world 
without  making  them. 

There  arc  a  hundred  things  that  I  could  mention 
more  valuable  than  reputation.  Self-respect  is  one  of 
these  ;  a  conscience  void  of  offence  is  another ;  the  re 
formation  and  the  progress  of  those  around  you  are 
others ;  and  God's  approval  is  another.  Maintain  your 
self-respect ;  keep  a  spotless  conscience ;  and  do  good 
to  all  around  you  with  supreme  reference  to  Him  in 
whom  you  live,  and  your  character  will  grow  health- 


222  Gold-Foil. 

fully,  without  a  thought  given  to  it.  The  moment  the 
preservation  of  your  character  and  reputation  becomes 
the  great  object  of  your  life, — the  moment  that  you 
begin  to  arrange  your  life  with  reference  to  a  character 
already  achieved — that  moment  you  will  cease  to  grow, 
and  pass  to  your  place  among  the  harmless  fossils  that 
occupy  the  ornamental  niches  of  society. 

The  influence  of  enemies  upon  a  really  sound  char- 
acter is  always  healthful.  A  certain  degree  of  recog- 
nition and  praise  does  any  man  good ;  but  the  usual 
efiect  of  a  great  deal  of  it  is  debilitating.  It  spoils  the 
child,  and  weakens  the  preacher,  and  enervates  the 
orator.  It  injures  the  character  of  almost  every  man. 
Praise  is  very  sweet,  but  the  soul  cannot  thrive  upon  a 
diet  of  sugar  any  more  than  the  body.  A  man  who  re- 
ceives a  great  deal  of  praise,  and  drinks  it  in  with 
genuine  appetite,  soon  comes  to  regard  it  with  an  un- 
healthy greed.  He  wants  it  from  every  body,  wants 
it  all  the  time,  labors  to  get  it,  and  is  disappointed  and 
uneasy  if  he  does  not  get  it.  It  is  well  for  every  man, 
therefore,  to  have  enemies,  to  hear  what  they  say  about 
him,  and  to  experience  the  weight  of  their  opposition. 
Enemies  drive  the  soul  home  to  its  motives,  rouse  its 
finest  energies,  compact  its  character,  render  it  watch- 
ful of  the  issues  of  its  life,  keep  it  strained  up  to  its 
work,  and  help  -to  eliminate  from  it  selfish  considera- 
tions. There  hardly  ever  lived  a  reformer  who  might 


The  Prefervation  of  Character.         223 

not  have  been  strangled  and  silenced  at  the  outset  of 
his  career  by  praise.  Thank  God  for  the  enmity  that 
developed  into  giants  the  reformers  of  our  own  and  of 
past  times.  May  He  in  mercy  forbid  that  any  of  the 
young  and  noble  hearts  now  yearning  for  the  good 
work  of  the  world  be  spoiled  by  too  much  praise  and 
too  few  enemies ! 

A  character  once  worthily  won  is  to  be  preserved 
in  precisely  the  same  way  that  it  is  won.  A  character 
is  easily  tarnished,  and  a  good  name  easily  lost ;  but 
neither  is  to  be  preserved  by  making  it  the  supreme 
object  of  attention.  Here  it  becomes  necessary  to  keep 
a  broad  distinction  between  reputation  and  character, 
for  one  may  be  destroyed  by  slander,  while  the  other 
can  never  be  harmed  save  by  its  possessor.  The  mal- 
ice of  others  may  tarnish  a  good  name — may  load  it 
with  suspicions — may  associate  it  with  gross  scandal — 
may  blacken  it  even  beyond  the  reach  of  total  re- 
covery, but  the  character  can  receive  no  injury  save  by 
the  voluntary  act  and  choice  of  its  owner.  A  man,  in 
order  to  retain  his  reputation,  may  be  required,  not 
unfrequcntly,  to  compromise  his  character ;  and  in 
order  to  keep  his  character  pure,  may  be  obliged  to 
compromise  his  reputation.  Character  is  as  much  more 
valuable  than  reputation,  as  it  is  more  valuable  than  its 
own  name. 

Reputation  is  in  no  man's  keeping.    You  and  I  can- 


224  Gold-Foil. 

not  determine  what  other  men  shall  think  of  us  and  say 
about  us.  We  can  only  determine  what  they  ought 
to  think  of  us  and  say  about  us ;  and  we  can  only  do 
this  by  acting  squarely  Tip  to  our  convictions  of  duty, 
without  the  slightest  reference  to  its  effect  upon  our- 
selves. There  are  two  ways  in  which  men  lose  their 
character  and  their  reputation  with  it.  The  selfish 
means  instituted  for  the  direct  purpose  of  preserving 
character  and  reputation  are  damaging  to  any  man. 
How  many  statesmen  and  politicians  have  "  fixed  them- 
selves  up  "  with  a  character  which  every  one  sees  is  in- 
tended for  a  market,  and  how  few  of  all  the  number 
ever  arrive  at  the  goal  of  their  ambition !  Many  of 
them  become  the  laughing-stock  of  the  country;  and 
when  the  great  conventions  meet,  their  names  are 
passed  by,  and  new  ones  elevated,  of  those  who  have 
been  employed  in  minding  their  business,  and  letting 
their  character  and  reputation  take  care  of  themselves. 
One  great  reason  why  so  few  of  the  truly  great  men  of 
the  nation  have  failed  to  be  placed  in  the  presidential 
office  is  that  they  spoiled  their  reputation  in  the  selfish 
desire  to  preserve  it  for  the  purpose  of  winning  office. 

Another  way  of  losing  character  and  reputation  is 
by  yielding  to  some  sudden  temptation  to  sin,  or  by 
the  secret  entertainment  of  a  vice  that  with  certainty 
undermines  both.  A  single  deed  of  shame,  ah !  how  it 
blackens  beyond  all  cleansing  the  character  that  has 


The  Prefer vation  of  Character.        225 

been  builded  in  the  struggles  and  toils  of  half  a  cen- 
tury !  There  is  no  wealth  under  the  sun  so  precious  as 
a  good  name  worthily  won,  and  there  is  no  calamity  so 
great  as  such  a  name  shamefully  lost.  Far  be  it  from 
me  to  depreciate  the  value  of  character,  or  to  depreci- 
ate pride  in  its  maintenance.  While  it  should  be  the 
natural,  unsought  consequent  of  a  life  controlled  by  the 
purest  and  noblest  motives,  it  doubtless  may  be  enter- 
tained as  a  choice  possession,  always  subordinate  as  a 
motive  of  action  to  Christian  principle  and  duty. 


10* 


XX. 

VICES  OF  IMAGINATION. 

"  It  is  dangerous  playing  with  edged  tools." 

"  lie  who  avoids  the  temptation  avoids  the  sin." 

"  Keep  yourself  from  opportunities,  and  God  will  keep  you  from  sins." 

w  The  pitcher  that  goes  often  to  the  well  gets  broken  at  last" 

THERE  is  an  enchanted  middle  ground  between 
virtue  and  vice,  where  many  a  soul  lives  and 
feeds  in  secret,  and  takes  its  payment  for  the  restraint 
and  mortification  of  its  outward  life.  I  once  knew  an 
old  dog  whose  most  exalted  and  delighted  life  was 
lived  upon  this  charmed  territory.  The  only  brute 
tenants  of  the  dwelling  where  he  lived  were  himself 
and  a  cat.  Rover  bore  no  ill-will  toward  his  feline 
companion — hi  fact,  he  was  too  good-natured  to  bear 
ill-will  toward  any  thing.  He  had  been  detected  once 
or  twice  in  worrying  her,  and  one  or  two  severe  flog- 
gings had  taught  him  that  the  sport  would  not  be 


Vices  of  Imagination.  227 


tolerated.  Still  he  did  not  stop  thinking  about  it ;  and 
at  every  convenient  opportunity  he  planted  himself  in 
her  way,  watched  her  as  she  lurked  for  prey,  scared 
her  by  growls  and  feints,  and  kept  her  in  a  fever  of  ap- 
prehension and  fretfulness.  Now,  while  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  he  intended  her  the  slightest  mischief,  I  have 
no  doubt  that,  in  his  bloody  imagination,  he  had  slain 
her  a  thousand  tunes,  chased  her  all  over  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  torn  her  limb  from  limb.  In  short,  while  he 
knew  that  he  must  not  worry  her,  he  took  the  satisfac- 
tion that  lay  next  to  it — that  of  being  tempted  to  worry 
her,  and  found  in  the  excitements  of  this  temptation 
the  highest  rewards  of  his  self-denial. 

Humanity  has  plenty  of  Rovers  of  this  same  sort — 
men  and  women  who  lead  faultless  outward  lives,  who 
have  no  intention  to  sin,  who  yield  their  judgment — if 
not  their  conscience — to  the  motives  of  self-restraint 
but  who,  in  secret,  resort  to  the  fields  of  temptation, 
and  seek  among  its  excitements  for  the  flavor,  at  least, 
of  the  sins  which  they  have  discarded.  This  realm  of 
temptation  is,  to  a  multitude  of  minds,  one  of  the  most 
seductive  in  which  their  feet  ever  wander.  Thither 
they  resort  to  meet  and  commune  with  the  images, 
beautiful  but  impure,  of  the  forbidden  things  that  lie 
beyond.  In  fact,  I  have  sometimes  thought  there  were 
men  and  women  who  were  really  more  in  love  with 
temptation  than  with  sin — who,  by  genuine  experience, 


228  Gold-Foil. 

had  learned  that  feasts  of  the  imagination  were  sweeter 
than  feasts  of  sense.  Whether  this  be  the  case  or  not. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  the  love  of  temptation,  for  the  ex- 
citement which  it  brings,  is  very  general,  even  with 
those  whom  we  esteem  as  patterns  of  virtue.  The  sur- 
render of  the  soul  to  these  excitements  is  the  more 
dangerous  from  the  fact  that,  by  some  sort  of  sensual 
sophistry,  they  are  conceived  to  be  harmless,  and  with- 
out the  pale  of  actual  sin.  There  is  no  intention  to  sin 
in  it,  but  only  an  attempt  to  filch  from  sin  all  the  pleas- 
ure that  can  be  procured  without  its  penalty. 

Playing  with  the  temptation  to  sin  is  doubtless  ac- 
companied with  less  apparent  disaster  than  the  actual 
commission  of  it,  and,  so  far,  is  a  smaller  evil ;  but  it  is 
an  evil,  and,  essentially,  a  sin.  The  man  who  loves 
and  seeks  the  excitement  of  temptation,  shows  that  he 
is  restrained  from  sin  by  fear,  and  not  by  principle — 
that,  while  his  life  is  on  the  side  of  virtue,  his  affections 
lean  to  vice.  This  is  a  sham  life,  and  a  mean  life. 
There  are  multitudes  to  whom  temptation  comes  from 
the  forbidden  world  of  sin,  but  it  comes  unbidden  and 
unwelcome — on  the  lines  of  old  appetites  and  old  pas- 
sions not  yet  thoroughly  under  control — and  it  is 
fought  against  and  driven  out.  It  is  the  voluntary 
going  out  of  the  soul  after  temptation,  as  a  kind  of 
unforbidden  good,  that  I  challenge  and  question.  It 
is  the  willing,  secret  sin  of  imagination  that  I  denounce, 


Vices  of  Imagination.  229 

as  not  only  a  sin  essentially,  in  itself,  but  as  the  path 
over  which  every  soul  naturally  travels  to  the  overt  act 
of  transgression  which  lies  beyond.  It  is  a  kind  of  sin 
that  injures  none  but  the  sinner,  directly ;  but  fouler, 
more  rotten-hearted  men  I  have  never  met  than  the 
cowardly  hypocrites  whose  lives  are  spent  in  dallying 
with  the  thought  of  sins  which  they  dare  not  commit. 

We  often  wonder  that  certain  men  and  women  are 
left  by  God  to  the  commission  of  sins  which  shock  us. 
We  wonder  how,  under  the  temptation  of  a  single 
hour,  they  fall  from  the  very  heights  of  virtue  and  of 
honor  into  sin  and  shame.  The  fact  is  that  there  are 
no  such  falls  as  these,  or  there  are  next  to  none.  These 
men  and  women  are  those  who  have  dallied  with  temp- 
tation— have  exposed  themselves  to  the  influence  of  it, 
and  have  been  weakened  and  corrupted  by  it.  If  we 
could  get  at  the  secret  histories  of  those  who  stand 
suddenly  discovered  as  vicious,  we  should  find  that 
they  had  been  through  this  most  polluting  preparatory 
process — that  they  had  been  in  the  habit  of  going  out 
and  meeting  temptation  in  order  that  they  might  enjoy 
its  excitements — that  underneath  a  blameless  outward 
life  they  have  welcomed  and  entertained  sin  in  their 
imaginations,  until  their  moral  sense  was  blunted,  and 
they  were  ready  for  the  deed  of  which  they  thought 
they  were  incapable. 

I  very  earnestly  and  gratefully  believe  in  the  exer- 


230  Gold-Foil. 

cise  of  a  divinely  restraining  influence  upon  the  minds 
of  those  who  are  tempted,  but  I  believe  there  is  a  point 
beyond  which  it  rarely  goes.  I  do  not  believe  that 
God  will  interpose  to  prevent  a  man  from  sinning  who 
either  seeks,  or  willingly  encounters,  the  temptation 
and  the  opportunity  to  sin.  When  a  man  finds  charm 
in  opportunity,  and  delight  in  temptation,  he  has  al- 
ready committed  in  heart  the  sin  which  he  shrinks 
from  embodying  in  action ;  and  God  rarely  stands  be 
tween  him  and  further  guilt.  We  are  to  keep  our- 
selves from  opportunities,  and  God  will  keep  us  from 
sin.  It  is  all  that  can  be  expected  of  a  being  of  infinite 
purity  that  he  shall  guard  us  from  the  power  of  temp- 
tation that  comes  to  us.  He  must  be  a  hard  and  ir- 
reverent, or  a  very  ignorant  and  deluded  man,  who 
can  pray  to  be  delivered  from  the  overcoming  power 
of  a  temptation  into  whose  atmosphere  he  willingly 
enters.  In  fact,  we  are  taught  to  pray,  not  that  we 
may  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  temptation,  but 
that  we  may  not  be  led  into  it. 

It  may  be  said  with  measurable  truthfulness  that 
half  the  art  of  Christian  living  consists  in  shunning 
temptation.  A  man  who  has  lived  to  middle  life  has 
observed  and  studied  himself  to  little  purpose  if  he 
have  not  learned  the  weak  points  of  his  own  character, 
and  the  kind  of  temptations  that  assail  him  with  the 
most  power  ;  and  it  is  doubtless  true  that  any  man  who 


Vices  of  Imagination.  231 

really  loves  a  pure  and  good  life  will  avoid  a  tempta- 
tion as  he  would  the  sin  to  which  it  would  lead  him. 
I  can  have  but  little  charity  for  those  who  apologize 
for  their  frequent  falls  from  virtue  by  charging  the 
blame  upon  the  power  of  temptation,  because  tempta- 
tion and  opportunity  come  to  them  unsought  no  oftener 
than  to  others.  It  is  the  man  who  loves  vice,  and  de- 
lights in  temptation,  who  is  subject  to  their  power.  I 
have  no  faith  in  the  reformation  of  a  drunkard  who 
carelessly  passes  his  accustomed  tippling-shop,  and 
carelessly  looks  in. 

We  are  to  avoid  temptation  because  it  is  only  as 
vice  is  glorified,  and  its  charms  exalted  by  the  power 
of  imagination,  that  it  appears  charming  and  attractive 
to  us.  A  vision  of  naked  vice,  of  whatsoever  sort,  is  a 
vision  of  deformity.  There  are  thousands  among  those 
who  delight  in  the  excitements  of  temptation,  volun- 
tarily sought,  who  would  shrink  with  horror  and  dis- 
gust from  a  sudden  introduction  to  the  presence  of  a 
vice  toward  which  they  have  been  attracted  from  a 
distance.  There  is  no  beauty  in  beastliness,  save  that 
which  an  excited  imagination  lends  to  it.  It  is  by  no 
inherent  charm  that  it  draws  men  and  women  toward 
it.  It  is  as  low  and  loathsome  as  the  serpent  around 
whose  evil  eyes  the  poor  bird  flutters,  until  it  drops,  a 
victim  to  the  fangs  that  await  its  certain  coming. 

I  have  said  thus  much  generally  of  the  sins  of  the 


232  Gold-Foil. 

imagination,  aware  that  my  remarks  apply  mainly  to 
one  variety  of  temptations — the  most  dangerous  and 
the  most  seductive  of  all.  There  is  nothing  charming 
in  the  thought  of  murder,  in  the  contemplation  of  a 
great  revenge,  in  theft,  and  in  the  majority  of  crimes. 
Imagination  has  no  sophistry  by  which  such  crimes 
may  be  justified,  and  no  power  to  wrap  them  in  an 
atmosphere  of  beauty.  The  sins  of  the  imagination  are 
mainly  those  which  contemplate  the  illicit  indulgence 
of  natural  and  normal  passions  and  appetites,  the  temp- 
tations to  which  come  in  upon  the  lines  of  legitimate 
and  heaven-ordained  sympathies.  It  is  among  the 
meshes  of  that  which  is  legitimate  and  that  which  is 
illegitimate — that  which  is  forbidden  and  that  which  is 
unforbidden — that  the  moral  sense  becomes  involved 
and  moral  purity  is  compromised.  It  is  because  men 
and  women  are  led  out  into  the  field  of  temptation  by 
some  of  the  sweetest  and  strongest  sympathies  of  their 
natures  that  they  feel  no  alarm  and  apprehend  no 
danger.  It  is  because  they  entertain  no  design  to  sin 
that  they  linger  there  without  fear.  Oh !  if  this  im- 
ginary  world  of  sin  could  be  unveiled — this  world  into 
which  the  multitude  go  unknown  and  unsuspected — to 
dream  of  delights  unhallowed  by  relations  that  may 
only  give  them  license — how  would  it  be  red  with  the 
blush  of  shame ! 

This  world  of  sense,  built  by  the  imagination — how 


Vices  of  Imagination.  233 

fair  and  foul  it  is !  Like  a  fairy  island  in  the  sea  of 
life,  it  smiles  in  sunlight  and  sleeps  in  green,  known  of 
the  world  not  by  -communion  of  knowledge,  but  by 
personal,  secret  discovery !  The  waves  of  every  ocean 
kiss  its  feet.  The  airs  of  every  clime  play  among  its 
trees,  and  tire  with  the  voluptuous  music  which  they 
bear.  Flowers  bend  idly  to  the  fall  of  fountains,  and 
beautiful  forms  are  wreathing  their  white  arms,  and 
calling  for  companionship.  Out  toward  this  charmed 
island,  by  day  and  by  night,  a  million  shallops  push  un- 
seen of  each  other,  and  of  the  -world  of  real  life  left  be- 
hind, for  revelry  and  reward  !  The  single  sailors  never 
meet  each  other ;  they  tread  the  same  paths  unknown 
of  each  other ;  they  come  back,  and  no  one  knows,  and 
no  one  asks  where  they  have  been.  Again  and  again 
is  the  visit  repeated,  with  no  absolutely  vicious  inten- 
tion, yet  not  without  gathering  the  taint  of  vice.  If 
God's  light  could  shine  upon  this  crowded  sea,  and 
discover  the  secrets  of  the  island  which  it  invests,  what 
shameful  retreats  and  encounters  should  we  witness — 
lathers,  mothers,  maidens,  men — children  even,  whom 
we  had  deemed  as  pure  as  snow — flying  with  guilty 
eyes  and  white  lips  to  hide  themselves  from  a  great 
disgrace ! 

There  is  vice  enough  in  the  world  of  actual  life,  and 
it  is  there  that  we  look  for  it ;  but  there  is  more  in  that 
other  world  of  imagination  that  we  do  not  see — vice 


234  Gold-Foil. 

that  poisons,  vice  that  kills,  vice  that  makes  whited 
sepulchres  of  temples  that  are  deemed  pure,  even  by 
multitudes  of  their  tenants.  Let  none  esteem  them- 
selves blameless  or  pure  who  willingly  and  gladly  seek 
in  this  world  of  imagination  for  excitements !  That 
remarkable  poem  of  Margaret  Fuller,  which  ascribes 
an  indelible  taint  to  the  maiden  who  only  dreams  of 
her  lover  an  unmaidenly  dream,  has  a  fearful  but  en- 
tirely legitimate  significance.  It  is  a  forbidden  realm, 
where  pure  feet  never  wander ;  and  all  who  would  re- 
main pure  must  forever  avoid  it.  It  is  the  haunt  of 
devils  and  damned  spirits.  Its  foul  air  poisons  man- 
hood and  shrivels  womanhood,  even  if  it  never  be  left 
behind  in  an  advance  to  the  overt  sin  which  lies  be- 
yond it. 

The  pitcher  that  goes  often  to  the  well  gets  broken 
at  last.  I  presume  that  there  is  not  one  licentious  man 
or  ruined  woman  in  one  hundred  whose  way  to  perdi- 
tion did  not  lie  directly  through  this  forbidden  field  of 
imagination.  Into  that  field  they  went,  and  went 
again,  till,  weakened  by  the  poisonous  atmosphere,  and 
grown  morbid  in  their  love  of  sin,  and  developed  in  all 
their  tendencies  to  sensuality,  and  familiarized  with  the 
thought  of  vice,  they  fell,  with  neither  the  disposition 
nor  the  power  to  rise  again.  It  is  in  this  field  that 
Satan  wins  all  his  victories.  It  is  here  that  he  is  trans- 
formed into  an  angel  of  light.  It  is  on  this  debatable 


Vices  of  Imagination.  235 

ground,  half-way  between  vice  and  virtue,  whither  the 
silly  multitude  resort  for  dreams  of  that  which  they 
may  not  enjoy,  that  the  question  of  personal  perdition 
is  settled.  A  pure  soul  sternly  standing  on  the  ground 
of  virtue,  or  a  pure  soul  standing  immediately  in  the 
presence  of  vice,  not  once  in  ten  thousand  instances 
bends  from  its  rectitude.  It  is  only  when  it  willingly 
becomes  a  wanderer  among  the  wiles  of  temptation, 
and  an  entertainer  of  the  images  it  finds  there,  that 
it  becomes  subject  to  the  power  that  procures  its  ruin. 
To  the  young,  especially,  is  the  exposition  of  this 
subject  necessary — to  those  whose  imaginations  are  ac- 
tive, whose  passions  are  fresh  and  strong,  and  whose 
inexperience  leaves  them  ignorant  of  consequences. 
There  is  no  field  of  danger  less  talked  of  than  this. 
Through  many  years  of  attendance  upon  the  public 
ministrations  of  Christianity,  I  have  never  but  twice 
heard  this  subject  pointedly  and  faithfully  alluded  to. 
Books  are  mainly  silent  upon  it.  Fathers  and  mothers, 
faithful  in  all  things  else,  shrink  from  the  administra- 
tion of  counsels  upon  matters  which  they  would  fain  be- 
lieve arc  all  unknown  to  the  precious  ones  they  have 
nurtured.  Thus  is  it  in  schools,  and  thus  is  it  every- 
where, where  counsel  is  needed,  and  where  it  is  de- 
manded. An  impure  word,  a  doubtful  jest,  a  tale  of 
sin,  drunk  in  by  these  fresh  souls,  excites  the  imagina- 
tion, and  straightway  they  discover  the  field  of  contem- 


236  Gold-Foil. 

plation,  so  full  of  danger  and  of  death,  and  learn  all  its 
paths  before  they  know  any  thing  of  the  perils  to  which 
they  subject  themselves.  Let  me  say  to  these,  what 
they  hear  so  little  from  other  lips  and  pens,  that  when- 
ever they  find  themselves  attracted  to  it,  they  can 
never  abide  in  it,  or  enter  upon  it,  without  taint  and 
without  sin.  Sooner  or  later  in  their  life  will  they  find 
that  from  all  willing  dalliance  with  temptation,  and  un- 
resisted  entertainment  of  unworthy  and  impure  imag- 
inations, their  character  has  suffered  an  injury  which 
untold  ages  will  fail  to  remedy. 


XXI. 

QUESTIONS  ABOVE  REASON. 

"  Anoint  a  villain,  and  he  will  prick  you  ;  prick  a  villain,  and  he  will  anoint 
yon." 

"  Give  a  rogue  an  inch,  and  he  will  take  an  elL" 
"  He  who  lies  down  with  dogs,  gets  up  with  fleas." 

GOOD  men  never  make  any  thing  by  treating  vil- 
lains as  equals.  A  conscious  villain  who  is 
treated  as  an  equal  by  an  honest  man  who  is  conscious 
of  his  villany,  recognizes  the  man  at  once  as  a  coward, 
and  treats  him  accordingly.  Treated  as  an  inferior,  a 
bad  man  becomes  polite  at  once,  or  plays  defiantly  the 
bully  and  the  blackguard  that  he  is.  We  may  go  the 
world  over  without  finding  any  man  who,  in  his  own 
soul,  knows  his  place  so  well  as  a  very  bad  man  ;  and 
there  is  no  way  of  securing  his  respect  so  easily  as  by 
giving  him  to  understand  that  he  is  understood,  and 
appreciated  at  his  true  value.  Bow  to  him,  and  treat 


238  Gold-Foil. 

him  like  a  gentleman,  and  lie  flounders  and  swaggers 
in  the  respectability  conferred  upon  him.  Shun  him, 
or  show  him  in  any  way  that  he  is  known  and  despised, 
and  he  becomes  respectful  and  decent,  nine  times  in 
ten.  There  is  no  social  or  Christian  relation  in  which 
good  and  bad  men  are  equals,  and  any  good  man  who, 
for  any  cowardly  reason,  is  willing  to  ignore  the  dis- 
tinction, commits  a  crime  against  society  and  against 
Christianity,  and  secures  to  himself  the  contempt  of 
those  to  whom  he  defers.  Anoint  a  villain,  and  he  will 
prick  you ;  prick  a  villain,  and  he  will  anoint  you. 

I  know  of  no  whip  so  effectual  in  its  power  when 
held  over  the  back  of  an  unprincipled  man  as  social 
proscription.  The  worst  men,  save  in  exceptional  cases 
of  brutal  self-abandonment,  have  a  longing  for  respecta- 
bility. It  is  a  hard  thing  for  any  man  to  walk  through 
the  streets,  and  meet  among  respectable  men  nought 
but  stony  faces,  and  to  know  that  those  faces  are  set 
simply  against  his  sins.  It  is  a  hard  thing  for  the  worst 
men  to  feel  that  all  good  hearts  and  all  decent  hearths 
are  shut  against  them,  because  then:  entrance  would  be 
regarded  as  a  contamination.  So  these  men  strive  to 
cheat  us  into  respecting  them  by  the  assumption  of 
false  names,  or  endeavor  to  purchase  respect  and  posi- 
tion by  exhibitions  of  public  spirit.  The  professional 
gambler,  who  is  simply  a  leech  upon  the  social  body — • 
who  gets  his  living  without  earning  it,  and  wins  the 


Queftions  above  Reafon.  239 


wealth  of  others  by  games  of  chance — the  most  heart- 
less, ruthless  and  mischievous  of  men — calls  himself  a 
sporting  man,  and  loves  to  be  called  a  sporting  man. 
He  would  be  much  obliged  to  society  if  it  would  never 
mention  the  word  "  gambler "  in  connection  with  his 
name.  In  fact,  he  would  be  willing  to  sacrifice  a  little 
something  for  the  public  good,  if  by  so  doing  he  could 
keep  his  chin  above  water. 

Again,  give  a  rogue  an  inch,  and  he  will  take  an 
ell.  Any  favor  shown  to  such  men  as  these  is  an  essen- 
tial license  for  further  sin.  They  want  countenance, 
and  they  seek  it  in  many  ways.  If  they  can  create  a 
party  for  themselves,  or  manage  to  secure  among  men 
nominally  respectable  apologists  and  defenders,  they 
are  delighted,  and  feel  themselves  safer  in  their  schemes 
and  operations.  We  have  only  to  recognize  them  as 
equals  to  lengthen  the  rope  that  holds  them  to  decency. 
The  moment  I  recognize  a  well  known  scoundrel  as  an 
equal,  that  moment  I  descend  to  bis  standard  of  moral- 
ity or  immorality,  assist  to  lower  the  general  standard 
of  respectability,  and  furnish  to  him  a  new  point  of  de- 
parture from  which  he  may  plunge  into  further  scoun- 
drelism.  The  fact  is  that  no  man  who  preys  upon 
society  for  a  livelihood,  or  habitually  engages  in  prac- 
tices which  compromise  social  purity  and  good  order, 
can,  by  possibility,  be  a  gentleman  ;  and  no  gentleman 
can  deal  with  such  a  man  on  an  equality,  or  eat  of 


240  Gold-Foil. 

his  dainties,  or  accept  of  his  company  or  his  favors, 
without  compromising  his  position  as  a  gentleman. 

He  who  lies  down  with  dogs  gets  up  with  fleas. 
When  a  decent  man  lowers  his  standard  of  respecta- 
bility so  far  that  he  can  consort  with  a  foe  to  society 
and  morality,  he  damages  himself  beyond  cure,  in  most 
instances.  Confounding  moral  distinctions  and  com- 
promising with  sin  are  dangerous  operations.  In  the 
measure  by  which  a  decent  man  confers  respectability 
upon  a  rascal,  does  the  rascal  transfer  reproach  to  him. 
The  act  is  one  which  changes  both  parties  for  the 
worse.  A  respectable  man  who  comes  to  look  with  a 
degree  of  complacency  upon  one  who  has  no  title  to 
respectability,  is  morally  damaged.  He  becomes  a 
weaker  man,  more  open  to  temptation,  and  more  liable 
to  fall.  The  princely  gamblers  of  New  York  and 
Washington  understand  this  principle  thoroughly,  and 
initiate  all  their  victims  by  bringing  them  into  com- 
munion with  rascality  over  their  costly  viands  and 
their  abundant  wines  and  cigars.  There  is  no  com- 
mon ground  of  communion  between  the  two  classes. 
There  is  not  even  debatable  ground.  The  distinction 
is  heaven-wide  on  its  very  face. 

I  have  stated  these  facts,  first,  because  they  are 
true,  and  should  be  made  useful ;  and,  second,  because 
they  inti*oduce  me  to,  and  assist  to  illustrate,  a  principle 
not  sufficiently  recognized  in  the  contacts  and  contests 


Oueftions  above  Reaibn.  241 

•w 

of  truth  with  falsehood  in  the  moral  and  religious 
world.  It  will  be  remembered — for  the  occurrence 
was  a  recent  one — that  a  champion  of  slavery  and  an 
opponent  of  slavery  met  in  an  American  city  as  dis- 
putants or  wranglers  upon  this  question.  If  slavery 
were  only  a  political  question,  a  discussion  like  this 
might  be  legitimate,  though  it  might  not  be  very  use- 
ful. But  it  is  recognized  everywhere  as  not  only  a 
political,  but  a  moral  question.  I  enter  upon  no  dis- 
cussion of  this  question,  because  it  is  not  relevant  to 
my  present  purpose,  but  I  say  that  to  the  opponent  of 
slavery  the  right  of  every  man  to  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,  is  a  self-evident  truth — a  truth 
which  calls  not  for  argument  but  statement — a  funda- 
mental truth,  which  lies  at  the  very  basis  of  all  free- 
dom and  all  sound  institutions.  Now,  the  moment  a 
man  holding  such  a  view  as  this  meets  a  champion  of 
slavery  on  even  ground,  to  argue  the  question,  he 
yields  the  battle,  and  is  worsted  before  he  opens  his 
mouth.  By  consenting  that  the  question  admits  of 
argument,  for  a  moment,  he  yields  ground  which  is 
impregnable,  places  himself  on  a  common  footing  with 
his  antagonist,  and  damages  himself  and  his  cause.  I 
have  seen  Christian  men  enter  into  arguments  with 
avowed  infidels  hi  bar-rooms  and  vicious  assemblages, 
as  a  matter  of  duty;  and  such  sights  have  always 
oppresssed  me  with  a  sense  of  humiliation.  Infidelity 
11 


242  Gold-Foil. 

is  not  the  equal  of  faith  in  any  sense.  Light  has  no 
fellowship  with  darkness,  and  Christ  no  concord  with 
Belial.  Religion  may  enter  a  pothouse  as  a  minister  of 
good,  but  it  may  not  lay  aside  its  dignity  to  argue  its 
rights  and  claims  there.  The  moment  that  it  does  this, 
it  is  shorn  of  its  power.  A  man  in  whom  Christianity 
has  become  a  life,  knows  that  Christianity  is  a  verity — 
knows  that  no  argument  under  heaven  can  convince 
him  of  its  falsehood.  He  knows  that  the  highest  claims 
of  Christianity  are  not  based  in  argument.  He  knows 
that  he  was  not  intellectually  argued  into  religion,  that 
he  is  not  kept  in  it  by  force  of  argument  or  logic,  and 
that  the  highest  demonstration  of  the  truth  of  Christian- 
ity which  he  possesses — his  own  individual  experience 
— is  precisely  that  which  he  cannot  bring  forward  in  any 
dispute  with  an  infidel.  The  moment,  therefore,  that 
he  comes  down  from  the  position  of  positive  knowledge, 
and  admits  that  there  is  room  for  argument,  he  sur- 
renders the  citadel,  and  the  conflict  is  to  be  decided 
simply  by  personal  prowess.  The  truth  of  Christianity 
admitted  between  two  opponents,  there  is,  of  course,  a 
legitimate  theatre  of  discussion  opened  for  questions 
connected  with  it ;  but  until  that  be  admitted,  there 
can  be  no  discussion  that  does  not  compromise  the  po- 
sition and  the  power  of  him  who  enters  as  the  cham- 
pion of  Christianity. 

I  say  that  infidelity  is  not  the  equal  of  faith,  be- 


Oueftions  above  Reafon.  243 

cause,  while  infidelity  abides  in,  and  relies  upon,  pure 
reason,  faith,  with  reason  abundantly  satisfied,  relies 
upon  the  demonstrations  of  an  experience  which  infi- 
delity will  reject  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  say  that 
faith  and  infidelity  can  never  meet  on  common  ground 
to  argue  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  Christianity,  because 
faith,  as  its  first  step,  must  surrender  its  stronghold, 
and  yield  the  question  to  the  arbitration  of  reason,  by 
which  it  can  never  be  settled.  I  say, further,  that  no 
Christian  man  has  a  right  to  do  this,  and  that  he  can- 
not do  it  without  weakening  himself,  and  damaging  his 
cause.  I  may  be  willing,  and  should  be  willing,  to  give 
my  reasons  for  my  belief  in  Christianity,  but  I  should 
not  be  willing  to  surrender  a  question  to  the  judgment 
of  reason  which  I  know  and  feel  to  be  mainly  out  of 
its  realm.  There  is  nothing  that  infidelity  more  thor- 
oughly delights  in  than  argument,  because,  in  argu- 
ment, it  brings  faith  down  to  its  own  level,  and  takes  it 
at  a  disadvantage.  It  is  lifted  into  importance  and  re- 
spectability by  the  consent  of  faith  to  meet  it  on  com- 
mon ground — ground  where  none  but  weak  minds  will 
ever  meet  it — minds  that  will  be  mastered  in  a  battle 
of  reason  almost  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Many  of  the  best  things  received  into  the  belief  and 
faith  of  the  best  men — things  relating  to  the  heart  of 
the  individual  and  the  life  of  society — demand  that 
they  shall  never  be  submitted  to  the  combats  and  con 


244  Gold-Foil. 

elusions  of  reason  on  a  common  ground  with  error.  A 
gentleman  will  not  fight  a  duel  with  a  churl,  simply  be- 
cause the  churl  is  not  his  equal.  He  could  gain  no  vic- 
tory that  would  compensate  for  the  social  disgrace  in- 
volved in  meeting  an  inferior  on  a  footing  of  equality. 
Men  of  the  world,  who  will  scout  my  reasoning  upon 
the  management  of  a  certain  class  of  moral  questions, 
will  understand  this  illustration,  and  find  it  somewhat 
difficult,  I  imagine,  to  get  away  from  it.  It  is  recog- 
nized as  a  rule  of  law,  based  on  a  fundamental  principle 
of  justice,  that  a  man  shall  be  tried  by  his  peers — a 
body  of  men  capable  of  appreciating  all  the  circum- 
stances and  evidence  of  his  case,  and  dispossessed  of 
those  prejudices  of  class  and  •  condition  which  would 
have  a  tendency  to  mislead  them.  The  same  principle 
demands  that  all  those  questions,  which  relate  to  things 
above  the  realm  of  pure  reason,  shall  be  judged  by  those 
who  are  capable  of  appreciating,  and  willing  to  accept, 
the  evidence  that  lies  in  that  realm.  As  there  is  no 
confession  of  cowardice  on  the  part  of  a  gentleman  who 
refuses  to  fight  a  churl,  and  no  self-conviction  of  guilt 
in  him  who  declines  to  be  tried  by  other  than 
his  peers,  so  there  is  no  admission  of  weakness  on 
the  part  of  him  who  refuses  to  place  his  faith  on 
the  footing  of  another  man's  infidelity,  and  to  sub- 
mit the  questions  touching  his  highest  life,  to  the 
judgment  of  those  who  are  incapable  of  understand- 


Oueftions  above  Reafon.  245 

ing,  and  unwilling  to  admit,  the  evidence  relating  to 
them. 

The  power  of  Christianity  before  the  world,  as  a 
system  of  religion,  no  less  than  the  power  of  all  those 
objects  and  subjects  of  faith  and  belief  which  lie  above 
the  domain  of  pure  reason,  abides  in  assertion — bold, 
broad,  direct,  confident,  and  persistent  assertion.  If  a 
man  were  to  deny  that  the  rose  is  beautiful,  and  chal- 
lenge me  to  the  proof  of  its  beauty,  what  more  could 
I  do  than  to  hold  the  rose  before  bis  eyes,  and  say  that 
it  is  beautiful  ?  If  the  rose  could  speak,  would  it  thank 
me  for  admitting  that  its  beauty  is  a  matter  of  argu- 
ment ?  The  settlement  of  the  question  of  its  beauty 
is  utterly  beyond  the  power  of  reason.  I  know  it 
is  beautiful;  I  feel  that  it  is  beautiful;  its  beauty 
thrills  me  with  the  most  delicious  pleasure.  That  is 
enough  for  me ;  but  that  would  not  be  enough  for  him 
who  denies  its  beauty.  I  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  its 
beauty  by  no  process  of  reasoning,  and  I  can  maintain 
the  fact  of  its  beauty  by  no  power  of  argument,  because 
the  determination  of  its  quality  and  character  is  without 
the  realm  of  reason. 

In  my  judgment,  a  great  mistake  has  been  made  by 
well-meaning  and  zealous  men,  through  treating  error 
and  infidelity  with  altogether  too  much  respect.  I  be- 
lieve that  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Christianity  is  indebted 
for  none  of  its  progress  in  the  world  to  rational  conflicts 


246  Gold-Foil. 

with  infidelity.  I  do  not  believe  that  a  single  great 
wroug  has  ever  been  overthrown  by  meeting  the  advo- 
cates of  wrong  in  argument.  Assertion  of  truths  known 
and  felt,  promulgation  of  truth  from  the  high  platform  of 
truth  itself,  declaration  of  faith  by  the  mouth  of  moral 
conviction — this  is  the  New  Testament  method,  and  the 
true  one.  If  a  man  say  to  me  that  he  does  not  believe 
in  the  existence  of  a  God,  my  judgment  tells  me  at 
once  that,  if  he  is  sincere,  he  is  insane  or  a  fool,  and 
that  if  he  is  insincere,  he  is  a  liar.  Shall  I  sit  down  to 
argue  the  question  with  him  after  this  ?  Shall  I  admit 
that  his  atheism  is  as  good  as  my  belief?  No. 
If  he  make  his  assertion,  let  him  be  content  with 
that.  If  he  ask  of  me  the  reason  of  my  belief,  I  will 
give  it  hun,  but  I  will  not  admit  that  to  be  a  sub- 
ject of  argument  which  is  the  first  fact  in  the  men- 
tal and  moral  universe.  By  so  doing  I  should  com- 
mit an  absurdity  that  would  stultify  me,  and  inflict  a 
dishonor  on  the  Being  of  whom  I  make  myself  the 
champion. 

If  I  have  made  myself  understood  on  this  point,  I 
have  dwelt  upon  it  long  enough,  and  have  only  to  add, 
that  he  who  allows  himself  to  be  placed  in  a  false  posi- 
tion by  consenting  to  stand  on  the  platform  of  reason, 
with  relation  to  questions  beyond  the  domain  of  reason, 
will  find  himself  damaged  in  the  end.  If  he  lie  down 
with  dogs,  he  will  get  up  with  fleas.  A  man  who  con- 


Oueftions  above  Reafon.  247 

sents  to  the  purely  rational  decision  of  a  question  which 
reason  can  never  settle,  will  find  himself  open  to  the  in- 
vasions of  error — weakened  in  all  his  defences.  For- 
saking an  impregnable  position,  he  enters  a  field 
full  of  doubts  and  dangers;  and  if  he  consent  to 
remain  there,  he  will  become  a  subject  of  their 
attack  at  every  point.  More  men  have  been  ar- 
gued, in  a  measure,  or  entirely,  out  of  faith,  than 
have  ever  been  argued  into  it — not  because  their 
faith  was  irrational,  but  because  they  have  prostituted 
that  to  the  basis  of  reason  which  is  beyond  the  realm 
of  reason. 

Assertion,  proclamation,  exhibition,  illustration — 
these  are  the  instruments  of  the  progress  of  all  truth 
relating  to  the  highest  life  of  the  world.  The  Gospel 
is  promulgated  by  preaching,  not  by  wrangling.  The 
reformation  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  effected  by 
the  assertion  of  a  few  simple  truths,  and  the  denuncia- 
tion of  errors  and  abuses.  The  idea  of  Luther  consent- 
ing to  meet  Tetzel  before  a  public  audience,  to  argue 
the  question  of  the  legitimacy  and  morality  of  peddling 
indulgences  to  sin,  is  simply  ridiculous.  That  thing  was 
not  to  be  soberly  argued,  but  soundly  denounced.  No 
truth  held  to  be  self-evident,  and  no  truth  whose  demon- 
stration lies  in  personal  experience — and  therefore  above 
reason — can  ever  be  submitted  to  argument  without 
prostitution  or  without  danger.  Reason  dethroned 


248 


Gold-Foil. 


truth  in  France,  but  truth  resumed  its  seat,  in  spite  of 
reason,  by  simple  self-assertion.  All  truth  that  lives 
independent  of  reason  asks  no  favors  of  it,  and  takes 
no  law  of  it. 


XXII. 

PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  LITE. 

"  Many  a  cow  stands  in  the  meadow,  and  looks  wistfully  at  the  common." 
"  Gross  grows  not  upon  the  highway." 
"  Life  at  court  is  often  a  short  cut  to  hell." 


is  no  human  estate  or  condition  around 
J_  which  gathers  so  much  that  is  fallacious  in  glory 
and  fictitious  in  attraction  as  around  that  which  is  de- 
nominated "  public  life."  To  be  exalted  in  public 
office,  to  be  observed  of  a  state  or  a  nation,  to  be 
sought  out  and  honored  of  public  assemblages,  to  be 
known  and  recognized  by  the  public  press  —  this  seems 
to  a  great  multitude,  whose  fortunes  are  cast  in  private 
life,  to  be  the  most  desirable,  the  most  enviable  thing, 
in  all  the  world.  If  we  could  read  the  secret  of  nine 
hearts  in  ten  that  we  meet,  we  should  find  that  under 
their  seeming  content  with  private  life  and  apparent 
satisfaction  with  private  pursuits,  there  is  a  longing  for 
11* 


250  Gold-Foil. 

a  position  that  will  give  their  persons,  powers  and 
names  a  public  recognition.  The  greed  for  office, 
which  is  evident  on  every  hand,  and  among  all  classes 
of  people,  is  but  a  demonstration  of  this  universal  ap- 
petite. It  is  not  confined  to  a  sex,  but  manifests  itself 
among  women  as  well  as  among  men.  We  hear  much 
of  "  woman's  rights,"  from  the  lips  of  women  who  have 
a  taste  for  public  life,  or  a  desire  for  public  recognition, 
and  they  make  their  proselytes  among  those  who  are 
exercised  by  a  similar  ambition. 

It  is  a  very  sad  thing  to  me — this  discontent  with 
private  life — because  the  larger  part  of  it  has  no  noble 
element  in  it.  The  majority  of  men  and  women  who 
are  ambitious  of  public  life  do  not  Avish  for  it  for  the 
sake  of  doing  more  good,  nor  because  they  believe 
themselves  to  be  transcendently  adapted  to  the  per- 
formance of  public  duties.  They  are  not  willing  to 
work  and  wait,  in  their  private  spheres  of  action,  until 
they  demonstrate  their  ability  and  fitness  for  public 
position,  and  are  sought  for  by  the  public  as  those 
worthy  of  trust  and  honor.  No,  they  desire  place  for 
the  sake  of  place  ;  they  seek  for  public  life  simply  from 
a  greed  for  notoriety  or  fame.  They  desire  to  be 
known,  to  be  looked  at,  to  be  talked  about,  to  be 
lionized.  It  is  publicity  that  has  charms  for  them — not 
public  duty,  nor  public  responsibility.  All  this  is  ut- 
terly selfish — utterly  contemptible.  It  is  unworthy  of 


Public  and  Private  Life.  251 

sound  manhood  and  true  womanhood,  and  its  tendency 
is  directly  demoralizing.  When  we  remember  that  the 
public  offices  of  the  country  are  filled  mainly  by  those 
who  have  attained  them  by  direct  seeking,  spurred  on 
by  this  base  ambition,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  account  for 
the  low  morals  that  are  to  be  found  in  public  life. 

We  can  go  further  than  this.  It  may  truthfully  be 
said  that  a  man  whose  chief  ambition  is  publicity  of 
name  and  position,  demonstrates,  by  its  possession  and 
exercise,  his  unfitness  for  that  to  which  he  aspires.  If 
in  this  great  world  of  discontented  private  life  there 
are  men  or  women  who  read  these  words,  let  them 
consider  that  in  the  degree  in  which  their  ambition  to 
be  known  is  the  predominant  motive  within  them,  do 
they  demonstrate  their  unfitness  for  the  honors  which 
they  seek.  The  ambition  is  essentially  a  selfish  and  a 
mean  one,  and  proves  directly,  and  unmistakably,  the 
possession  of  a  nature  unworthy  of  great  public  respon- 
sibilities. A  surpassing,  overweening  desire  for  public 
life,  for  the  sake  of  public  life,  and  the  kind  of  honor 
which  it  brings,  demonstrates  a  nature  that  will  sub- 
ordinate public  to  private  good,  and  elevate  personal 
reputation  above  the  requirements  of  public  duty.  The 
cowardice  of  politicians,  and  the  shameful  devotion  to 
private  interests  that  prevails  in  legislative  bodies,  only 
show  how  many  have  found  place  through  this  selfish 
seeking  of  it. 


252  Gold-Foil. 

But  all  public  life,  or  all  notoriety,  is  not  to  be 
found  in  politics.  Literature,  journalism,  the  pulpit, 
the  bar — all  these  are  aspired  to  as  objects  that  are 
calculated,  more  or  less,  to  satisfy  the  appetite  for  pub- 
lic notoriety.  The  consequence  is  that  literature  is 
crowded  with  weak  or  vicious  pretenders,  journalism 
with  greedy  self-seekers,  the  pulpit  with  men  who 
have  no  qualifications  for  their  calling,  and  the  bar 
with  brawling  pettifoggers.  The  question  with  great 
numbers  who  embrace  these  professions  is  not — "  What 
have  I  within  me,  for  the  world,  that  I  may  convey 
through  the  profession  which  I  choose  to  the  world  ?  " 
but — "  What  has  the  world  for  me,  that  it  can  convey 
through  this  profession  to  me  ?  "  There  is  a  proper 
kind  of  self-seeking,  but  it  is  that  which  has  its  basis  in 
worthy  doing.  A  man  who  gladly  grasps  an  honor 
which  he  has  not  earned,  because  it  is  an  honor,  is  a 
man  unworthy  of  trust  and  without  shame. 

But  is  there  any  thing,  after  all,  in  this  public  life 
that  is  so  very  desirable  ?  Is  there  any  thing  so  very 
sweet  in  having  one's  name  public  property  ?  Is  there 
any  thing  in  the  burden  of  public  responsibilities  and 
cares  that  is  so  exceedingly  pleasant  to  bear  ?  I  am 
willing  that  any  man  who  bears  worthily  the  burden 
of  public  life  shall  answer  these  questions.  Any  man 
who  takes  upon  his  shoulders,  and  faithfully  and  con- 
scientiously carries,  the  responsibilities  of  a  public  po- 


Public  and  Private  Life.  253 

sition,  knows  and  feels  that  he  is  a  slave,  and  that  the 
careless  hind  who  whistles  behind  his  plough  has  a 
peace  of  mind  which  has  left  him  forever. 

It  matters  not  what  kind  of  publicity  or  notoriety 
any  man,  worthy  or  unworthy,  may  have,  he  will  be 
the  object  of  the  meanest  envy  and  the  most  inveterate 
enmity.  A  name  that  has  become  public  property  is  a 
name  to  be  bandied  about,  coupled  with  foul  epithets, 
criticised,  contemned,  or  to  be  made  the  subject  of  ex- 
travagant laudation — more  humiliating,  if  less  madden- 
ing. The  alternative  of  a  public  life  of  mingled  praise 
and  abuse,  or  of  unmeasured  abuse,  is  that  of  a  public 
idol — is  a  public  life  that  shall  be  the  object  of  univer- 
sal flattery.  There  are  some  men  who  can  withstand 
the  influences  of  such  a  position  as  this,  but  they  are 
few,  and  far  between.  A  public  life  is  always  a  life  of 
great  temptation ;  and  few  lead  it  who  do  not  feel,  in 
the  depths  of  their  souls,  that  they  have  been  damaged 
by  it.  A  host  of  evil  influences  cluster  about  it.  It 
interferes  with  domestic  peace,  absorbs  the  mind,  and 
blunts  the  aflections.  It  depresses  the  tone  of  the 
moral  feelings,  and  liinders  the  development  of  piety 
in  Christian  souls.  When  entered  upon,  it  is  found  to 
be  full  of  intrigues,  petty  jealousies,  and  selfish  conten- 
tions ;  while  its  rewards  are  the  most  hollow  and  illu- 
sory that  can  be  imagined. 

I  will  not  deny  that  to  be  loved  and  recognized  by 


254  Gold-Foil. 

the  public  for  a  character  worthily  won,  and  for  ser- 
vices faithfully  and  unselfishly  rendered,  is  a  boon  to 
be  gratefully  received  and  genially  cherished.  An  am- 
bition to  be  worthy  of  public  honor  and  popular  recog- 
nition is  a  legitimate  motive  of  a  noble  mind.  That 
there  are  sweet  rewards  in  such  a  recognition  as  this, 
is  not  to  be  denied ;  but  a  notoriety,  sought  for  its  own 
sake,  and  attained  for  purely  selfish  ends — a  pubh'c  life 
entered  upon  for  the  rewards  of  fame — is  one  of  the 
basest  things  and  most  miserable  cheats  hi  the  world. 
Estimated  legitimately,  all  public  life  is  a  private  bur- 
den, to  be  assumed  as  a  matter  of  duty,  and  borne  un- 
selfishly. Such  public  life  as  this  deserves  honor,  as 
one  of  its  incidental  rewards,  but  there  is  not  a  worthy 
mind  in  the  world  that  occupies  a  prominent  position 
before  the  pubh'c  that  does  not  turn,  and  return,  to  the 
little  circle  of  home  and  its  affections — to  the  grateful 
sphere  of  its  private  life — for  that  which  is  sweetest 
and  best  in  the  material  of  its  earthly  happiness. 

Grass  grows  not  upon  the  highway,  but  by  the 
highway  side — in  humble  pasture-lands,  in  quiet  mead- 
ows, and  in  well-fenced  homesteads.  Where  horses 
tramp,  and  wheels  roll,  and  cattle  tread,  and  swine  are* 
driven  in  hungry  droves,  every  thing  is  foul  with  dust 
and  offal.  It  is  only  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence  that 
the  clover  blooms,  and  the  daisy  nods,  and  the  grass 
epreads  itself,  undisturbed,  into  velvet  lawns.  It  is  not 


Public  and  Private  Life.  255 

where  unclean  beasts  rove  freely,  and  browse  at  will, 
that  the  make  perfects  its  golden  product  and  the 
bending  tree  its  fruit,  but  in  secluded  fields,  where  the 
husbandman  works  and  watches  unseen.  No  more  is 
it  in  public  life  that  the  best  affections  of  our  natures 
blossom,  and  the  little  virtues  spring  and  spread  to 
give  to  life  the  freshness  of  velvet  verdure.  No  more 
is  it  in  public  life  that  a  golden  character  is  perfected, 
and  fruit  is  matured  and  borne  unto  eternal  life.  It  is 
only  in  private  life  that  the  highest  development,  the 
purest  tastes,  the  sweetest  happiness,  and  the  finest 
consummations  and  successes  of  life  are  found.  To 
these  conclusions  reason  guides  us,  and  experience 
holds  us. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  desire  of  women  for  public 
life,  and  in  this  connection,  the  subject  naturally  arises 
again.  With  women  who  desire  a  public  career,  the 
question  is  one  of  rights  and  privileges,  as  if  public  life 
were  the  grand  estate  of  humanity.  With  me,  it  is  not 
a  question  of  rights  at  all,  though,  if  I  were  to  make  it 
such,  I  should  not  find  myself  greatly  at  variance  with 
those  who  maintain  the  rights  of  women  most  stoutly. 
Abstractly,  a  woman  has  a  right  to  be,  and  to  do, 
what  she  pleases,  but  the  question  is  not  one  of  right 
and  privilege.  It  is  a  question  of  duty.  I  believe  that 
it  is  the  right  and  privilege  of  woman  to  remain  in 
private  life,  if  she  choose  so  to  remain.  It  is  not  the 


256  Gold-Foil. 

right  of  man  to  shirk  public  responsibility,  if  it  be  laid 
upon  him.  Man's  physical  structure  and  intellectual 
constitution — his  power  to  labor  and  endure — his  free- 
dom from  the  sexual  disabilities  incident  to  woman — 
designate  him  as  the  world's  worker.  While  private 
life  is  his  best  sphere  and  his  happiest  lot,  he  may  not 
slip  his  neck  from  the  yoke  of  public  responsibility.  If 
women  were  needed  in  public  life,  they  would  be  in  the 
same  condition — they  would  have  no  right  to  decline 
public  duty ;  but,  in  the  present  constitution  of  society, 
they  are  not  needed.  Duty,  therefore,  does  not  call 
them  into  public  life,  and  they  have  the  right  and  the 
privilege  to  remain  away  from  public  affairs — a  privi- 
lege which,  if  properly  estimated  by  them,  would  prove 
to  them  that,  for  whatever  God  has  denied  to  them,  and 
for  whatever  of  hardship  He  has  laid  upon  them,  He 
has  made  abundant  compensations. 

It  is  strange  that,  in  matters  like  this,  men  and  wo- 
men will  not  receive  the  testimony  of  competent  expe- 
rience. There  is  no  worthy  public  man  living  who  will 
not  testify  to  the  surpassing  excellence  and  charm  of 
private  life.  The  higher  a  man  is  raised  in  public  life, 
the  more  is  he  removed  from  that  sympathy  with  the 
popular  heart  which  flows  from  common  pursuits  and  a 
common  condition.  The  frigid  isolation  of  power,  the 
vexations  of  popular  misconstruction,  the  jealousy  and 
envy  of  mean  minds,  the  clash  of  public  duty  with 


Public  and  Private  Life.  257 

private  friendship — all  these  are  hard  to  bear,  and  there 
is  no  sensitive  and  worthy  nature  that  will  not  shrink 
from  them.  The  very  best  of  those  whom  the  world 
has  delighted  to  honor,  turn  from  the  dreary  loneliness 
of  their  sphere  to  the  simple  joys  of  the  private  life 
they  have  left — to  its  honest,  neighborly  friendships,  its 
pure  habits,  its  quiet  flow  of  family  life,  its  freedom 
from  care,  and  its  pleasures,  with  a  yearning  memory, 
and  sometimes — nay,  often — with  a  memory  which 
does  not  fail  to  lament  the  loss  of  a  sensibility  that 
ought  to  be  touched  to  tears. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  much  of  this  vicious 
longing  for  public  life  and  notoriety  arises  from  a  vice 
in  the  character  of  the  private  life  in  which  it  is  born. 
I  am  convinced  that  much  of  it  would  be  obviated  if 
private  life  were  all  that  it  should  be.  Man  is  a  social 
being,  and,  in  his  love  of  approbation,  seeks  for  the 
recognition  of  society.  If  private  life  moved  in  large 
circles,  he  would  get  this  recognition,  and  be  content 
with  it ;  but  it  is  a  feet,  that  private  life  is  too  much  with- 
out congenial  relationships.  It  is  essentially  selfish,  and 
helps  to  cherish  rather  than  to  destroy  the  appetite  for 
public  life.  In  looking  over  the  world  of  public  life, 
and  the  world  of  those  who  are  seeking  it  for  its  own 
sake,  I  think  it  will  be  found  that  a  largo  majority  of 
its  men  and  women  are  those  whose  private  life  is 
meagre  in  its  rewards,  or  positively  unhappy.  I  be- 


258  Gold-Foil 

lieve  that  the  majority  of  notoriety-hunters  are  men 
and  women  with  uncongenial  companions,  or  with  no 
companions  at  all,  or  with  an  insufficient  circle  of 
friends,  or  with  a  circle  of  insufficient  friends.  If 
private  life  were  entirely  what  it  should  be,  this  disease 
would  doubtless  be  greatly  abated. 

I  suppose  that  no  one  can  read  the  Evangelists  with- 
out being  impressed  with  the  evident  shrinking  of  the 
Master  from  publicity.  The  performance  of  many  a  nota- 
ble miracle  was  followed  by  the  command  that  it  should 
not  be  published.  "  See  that  thou  tell  no  man,"  was  His 
modest  mandate.  He  preached  in  the  synagogues,  on  the 
mountains,  and  by  the  water-side,  but  it  was  because  He 
had  a  work  to  do — a  mission  to  perform.  His  severest 
words  were  for  those  who  prayed  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets,  and  gave  their  alms  to  be  seen  of  men.  There  was 
nothing  meaner  in  His  eyes  than  the  thirst  for  notoriety, 
and  some  of  the  most  charming  exhibitions  of  his  charac- 
ter were  given  in  the  private  circle  of  His  disciples,  and 
in  the  humble  homes  of  such  as  Mary  and  Martha.  His 
public  life  was  a  life  of  service.  He  had  a  work  to  do, 
and  was  straitened  until  it  should  be  accomplished. 
His  was  a  life  of  privation  and  discomfort.  With  the 
burden  of  a  public  life  upon  Him,  moving  among  the 
palaces  of  Jerusalem  and  the  rural  homes  of  the  villages 
of  Judea,  it  was  more  than  an  exhibition  of  His  pover- 
ty when  He  said — "  Foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of 


Public  and  Private  Life.  259 

the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where 
to  lay  His  head." 

It  will,  of  course,  be  useless  for  me  to  talk  to  those 
who  have  eaten  of  the  insane  root ;  but  to  the  world 
of  young  life,  now  emerging  into  manhood  and  woman- 
hood, something  may  perhaps  be  said  with  profit. 
There  is  nothing  good  in  public  life,  nothing  valuable 
in  notoriety,  that  can  compensate  for  the  abandonment 
of  a  private  sphere  those  men  and  women  who  make 
the  sacrifice.  If  duty  call  you  to  office,  or  a  worthy 
character  and  worthy  works  lift  you  into  public  notice, 
bear  the  honor  well,  but  grudge  the  smallest  charm 
that  it  steals  from  your  private  life.  Let  that  be  as  gen- 
erous in  its  conditions  and  as  wide  in  its  sympathies  as 
you  can  make  it,  and  be  sure  that  in  it  will  be  found 
the  truest  wealth  that  the  world  can  give  you.  Learn 
to  look  upon  all  hunters  for  notoriety,  for  notoriety's 
sake,  all  itching  for  public  life  for  the  sake  of  its  pub- 
licity, all  greed  for  office  for  the  purpose  of  catching 
the  public  eye,  with  contempt,  as  the  meanest  of  all 
mean  ambitions.  And  when  you  find  yourself  listening 
to  the  suggestions  of  an  ambition  like  this,  regard  it  as 
a  disease,  which  only  a  more  worthy  and  generous  pri- 
vate life  can  cure. 


xxm. 

HOME. 

"  The  fire  burns  brightest  on  one's  own.  hearth." 
"  A  tree  often  transplanted  neither  grows  nor  thrives." 
"  He  who  is  far  from  home  is  near  to  harm." 
"  lie  who  is  everywhere  is  no  •where." 

WIND  and  water  wander  round  the  world,  and 
grow  fresher  for  the  journey.  The  lost  dia- 
mond knows  no  difference  between  the  dust  where  it 
lies  and  the  bosom  from  which  it  fell ;  but  every  thing 
that  has  vitality  requires  a  home.  Every  thing  that 
lives  seeks  to  establish  permanent  relations  with  that 
upon  which  it  must  depend  for  supplies.  Every  plant 
and  every  animal  has  its  country,  and  in  that  country  a 
favorite  location,  where  it  finds  that  which  will  give  it 
the  healthiest  development,  and  the  most  luxurious  life. 
Maize  will  not  grow  in  England,  and  oranges  are  not 
gathered  in  Lapland.  The  white  bear  pines  and  dies 


Home.  261 

under  the  equator,  and  the  lion  refuses  to  live  in  polar 
latitudes.  The  elm  of  a  century  may  not  be  trans- 
planted with  safety,  unless  a  large  portion  of  its  home 
be  taken  with  it.  In  jungles  and  dens,  in  root-beds  and 
parasitic  footholds,  in  rivers,  and  brooks,  and  bays,  in 
lakes  and  seas,  in  cabins,  and  tents,  and  palaces,  every 
thing  that  lives,  from  the  lowest  animal  and  plant  to 
the  lordliest  man,  has  a  home — a  place,  or  a  region, 
with  whose  resources  its  vitality  has  established  rela- 
tions. I  have  no  doubt,  with  analogy  only  for  the  basis 
of  my  belief,  that  God,  the  fountain  of  life,  has  a  home, 
and  that  there  is  somewhere  in  space  a  place  which  we 
call  heaven. 

"What  is  true  of  all  organic  material  life  is  equally  true 
of  all  mental  and  spiritual  life.  It  is  not  because  the  soul 
is  the  tenant  of  a  body  which  must  have  a  home,  that  it, 
too,  is  subjected  to  a  like  necessity.  The  soul  is  alive,  and 
must  feed  that  it  may  continue  to  live,  and  that  it  may 
thrive.  It  takes  root  in  material  things,  or  in  the  spiritual 
facts  that  invest  and  permeate  them,  no  less  than  in  so- 
ciety, through  multiplied  filaments  of  relation  ;  and  its 
roots  may  never  be  violently  dislocated  without  serious 
damage  to  its  life.  Let  a  man  be  removed  from  his 
accustomed  place  in  the  world,  and  from  the  society  of 
wife  and  children,  and  friends  and  neighbors,  and  twen- 
ty-four hours  will  suffice  to  make  him  a  weaker  man, 
and  to  institute  in  him  either  a  general  or  special  pro- 


262  Gold-Foil. 

cess  of  demoralization.  The  home-sickness  of  the  Swiss 
soldier  is  a  genuine  disease,  with  a  natural  cause  which 
operates  independently  of  his  will  and  beyond  his  con- 
trol. The  soul  that  has  once  adjusted  itself  to  its  con. 
ditions,  and  has  found  the  food  necessary  to  nourish  its 
growth  and  augment  its  vital  wealth,  is  nearest  to  its 
good ;  and  the  moment  it  leaves  these  conditions  for 
those  which  are  strange,  it  approaches  its  evil.  Let 
the  accustomed  influences  which  hold  it  to  virtue,  and 
strengthen  its  power  to  resist  temptation,  and  nourish 
its  religious  life,  be  escaped  from,  and  it  will  more  readi- 
ly become  the  prey  of  its  own  evil  propensities,  and  of 
the  demoralizing  influences  that  assail  it  from  without. 
These  facts  find  confirmation  in  familiar  popular  ex- 
perience. The  influence  of  vacation  and  summer  travel 
has  been  felt  by  multitudes.  Some  of  our  most  exem- 
plary men,  wrho  have  never  been  known  to  kick  over 
the  traces  of  propriety  at  home,  break  in  the  dasher  and 
run  away  with  the  vehicle  at  a  sea-side  hotel.  The 
glass  of  wine,  which  never  meets  their  lips  at  home,  is 
indulged  in  without  alarm  among  strangers.  Bowling 
alleys  and  whist  tables  and  billiard  rooms,  which  are 
considered  very  bad  things  when  among  acquaint- 
ances, are  transformed  into  excellent  institutions  in  dis- 
tant locations.  Dignified  gentlemen — oflicers  of  the 
church  and  oflicers  of  the  state — become  boyish  and 
hilarious — not  unfrequently  tiproarous — in  an  unfamiliar 


Home.  263 

presence.  The  cords  of  the  moral  nature,  kept  taut  in 
the  presence  of  familiar  associates,  adapt  themselves 
with  marvellous  readiness  to  the  prevalent  feebleness  of 
tension  found  in  the  humid  atmosphere  of  watering 
places. 

Fixedness  of  location  becomes,  then,  a  condition 
vitally  necessary  to  the  growth  of  a  true  character,  and 
the  preservation  of  the  health  and  harmony  of  the 
functions  of  the  soul.  The  soul,  like  the  body,  lives  by 
what  it  feeds  on.  It  must  increase,  or  it  must  diminish. 
Travel  has  its  benefits,  but  they  are  indirect.  They 
come  from  rest — not  from  growth.  The  direct  influ- 
ence of  travel  is  dissipation.  No  man  ever  comes  back 
from  travel  with  his  powers  unimpaired.  The  power  to 
concentrate  the  mind,  and  to  perform  labor  in  the  ac- 
customed way,  is,  in  a  measure,  lost,  and  must  be  re- 
acquired.  Now,  if  this  condition  of  fixedness  be 
necessary  to  those  who  already  possess  character  and 
Clmstian  principle,  how  much  more  necessary  is  it  to 
those  who  are  mainly  held  to  propriety  and  virtue  by 
outward  influences.  The  young  men  who  leave  Christ- 
ian homes  in  the  country,  go  to  the  city,  and,  finding 
the  restraints  of  home  removed,  plunge  into  various 
forms  of  sin.  The  young  women  who  gather  in  board- 
ing-houses, which  are  so  far  without  a  home-character 
that  they  are  regarded  only  as  places  to  cat  and  sleep 
in,  rarely  fail  of  receiving  serious  moral  injury.  A  con- 


264  Gold-Foil. 

stant  traveller  who  is  constantly  devout  may  possibly 
exist,  but  I  have  never  seen  him.  The  itinerant  pro- 
fessions have  never,  I  believe,  been  noted  for  exhibitions 
of  intellectual  growth,  or  profound  piety.  Gold  hunters 
in  California  and  Australia  become  in  a  few  months 
semi-savages.  No  genuine  observer  can  decide  other- 
wise than  that  the  homes  of  a  nation  are  the  bulwarks 
of  personal  and  national  safety  and  thrift.  A  curse 
upon  all  those  fantastic  methods  of  living,  dreamed  of 
by  socialism  and  communism,  which  would  sacrifice 
home  to  the  meagre  economies  of  great  establishments, 
where  humanity  is  fed  in  stalls  like  cattle ! 

I  may  legitimately  qualify  or  adapt  what  I  have 
said  so  far  as  to  admit  that  a  poor  home  with  a  poor 
location  may  be  exchanged  for  a  better  one.  A  plant 
may  be  dislocated  from  an  old,  and  removed  to  a  new 
bed,  not  unfrequently  with  advantage.  It  may  exhaust 
the  soil  where  it  stands,  and  demand  more  room  for  its 
roots.  I  have  seen  many  men  greatly  improved  by 
transplantation,  but  the  process  of  adaptation  and  ac- 
climation through  which  they  were  obliged  to  pass, 
before  they  could  establish  ultimate  relations  with  the 
new  soil,  was  proof  of  the  difficulty  and  danger  of  the 
process.  This  transplanting  process  is  constantly  going 
on,  however,  with  good  results.  The  wife  in  the  new 
home  is  more  than  the  daughter  in  the  old  one.  New 
food,  new  influences,  more  room,  fresh  functions  are 


Home.  265 

always  beckoning  us  to  better  locations ;  but  the  lives 
are  comparatively  few  that  exhaust  a  home  of  medium 
advantages.  The  acquisition  of  a  good  home  is  one  of 
the  first  objects  of  life — a  home  where  the  soul  has  ex- 
clusive rights — a  home  where  it  may  grow  undisturbed, 
sending  out  its  roots  into  a  fertile  society,  and  lifting 
up  its  branches  into  the  sunlight  of  heaven — a  home 
out  from  which  the  soul  may  go  on  its  errands  and 
enterprises,  and  to  which  it  may  return  for  its  rewards 
— a  home  which,  along  the  conduits  of  memory,  may 
bear  pure  nourishment  to  children  and  children's  chil- 
dren while  it  stands,  and  even  after  it  has  fallen. 

I  recall  a  home  like  this,  long  since  left  behind  in 
the  journey  of  life ;  and  its  memory  floats  back  over 
me  with  a  shower  of  emotions  and  thoughts  toward 
whose  precious  fall  my  heart  opens  itself  greedily  like 
a  thirsty  flower.  It  is  a  home  among  the  mountains — 
humble  and  homely — but  priceless  in  its  wealth  of  asso- 
ciations. The  waterfall  sings  again  in  my  ears,  as  it 
used  to  sing  through  the  dreamy,  mysterious  nights. 
The  rose  at  the  gate,  the  patch  of  tansy  under  the  win- 
dow, the  neighboring  orchard,  the  old  elm,  the  grand 
machinery  of  storms  and  showers,  the  little  smithy 
under  the  hill  that  flamed  with  strange  light  through 
the  dull  winter  evenings,  the  wood-pile  at  the  door,  the 
ghostly  wliite  birches  on  the  hill,  and  the  dim  bine 
haze  upon  the  retiring  mountains — all  these  come  back 
12 


266  Gold-Foil. 

to  me  with  an  appeal  which  touches  my  heart  and 
moistens  my  eyes.  I  sit  again  in  the  doorway  at  sum- 
mer nightfall,  eating  my  bread  and  milk,  looking  off 
upon  the  darkening  landscape,  and  listening  to  the 
shouts  of  boys  upon  the  hill-side,  calling  or  driving 
homeward  the  reluctant  herds.  I  watch  again  the 
devious  way  of  the  dusty  night-hawk  along  the  twilight 
sky,  and  listen  to  his  measured  note,  and  the  breezy 
boom  that  accompanies  his  headlong  plunge  toward  the 
earth. 

Even  the  old  barn,  crazy  in  every  timber  and  gap- 
ing at  every  joint,  has  charms  for  me.  I  try  again 
the  breathless  leap  from  the  great  beams  into  the  bay. 
I  sit  again  on  the  threshold  of  the  widely  open  doors 
—open  to  the  soft  south  wind  of  spring — and  watch 
the  cattle,  whose  faces  look  half  human  to  me,  as  they 
sun  themselves,  and  peacefully  ruminate,  while,  drop 
by  drop,  the  dissolving  snow  upon  the  roof  drills  holes 
through  the  wasting  drifts  beneath  the  eaves,  down  into 
the  oozing  offal  of  the  yard.  The  first  little  lambs  of 
the  season  toddle  by  the  side  of  their  dams,  and  utter 
their  feeble  bleatings,  while  the  flock  nibble  at  the  hay 
rick,  or  a  pair  of  rival  wethers  try  the  strength  of  their 
skulls  in  an  encounter,  half  in  earnest  and  half  in  play. 
The  proud  old  rooster  crows  upon  his  dunghill  throne, 
and  some  delighted  member  of  his  silly  family  leaves 
her  nest,  and  tells  to  her  mates  and  to  me  that  there  is 


Home.  267 

another  egg  in  the  world.  The  old  horse  whinnies  in 
his  stall,  rind  calls  to  me  for  food.  I  look  up  to  the 
roof,  and  think  of  last  year's  swallows — soon  to  return 
again — and  hear  the  tortions  of  their  musical  morocco, 
as  it  wraps  their  young,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  angular 
sky  through  the  diamond-shaped  opening  that  gave 
them  ingress  and  egress.  How,  I  know  not,  and  care 
not,  but  that  old  barn  is  a  part  of  myself — it  has  entered 
into  my  life,  and  given  me  growth  and  wealth. 

But  I  look  into  the  house  again,  ivhere  the  life 
abides  which  has  appropriated  these  things,  and  finds 
among  them  its  home.  The  hour  of  evening  has  come, 
the  lamps  are  lighted,  and  a  good  man  in  middle  life — 
though  very  old  he  seems  to  me — takes  down  the  well- 
worn  Bible,  and  reads  a  chapter  from  its  hallowed 
pages.  A  sweet  woman  sits  at  his  side,  with  my  sleepy 
head  upon  her  knee,  and  brothers  and  sisters  are 
grouped  reverently  around.  I  do  not  understand  the 
words,  but  I  have  been  told  that  they  are  the  words  of 
God,  and  I  believe  it.  The  long  chapter  ends,  and 
then  we  all  kneel  down,  and  the  good  man  prays.  I 
foil  asleep  with  my  head  in  the  chair,  and  the  next 
morning  remember  nothing  of  the  way  in  which  I  went 
to  bed.  After  breakfast  the  Bible  is  taken  down,  and 
the  good  man  prays  again  ;  and  again  and  again  is  the 
worship  repeated  through  all  the  days  of  many  golden 
years.  The  pleasant  converse  of  the  fireside,  the 


268  Gold-Foil. 

simple  songs  of  home,  the  words  of  encouragement  as 
I  bend  over  my  school-tasks,  the  kiss  as  I  lie  down  to 
rest,  the  patient  bearing  with  the  freaks  of  my  restless 
nature,  the  gentle  counsels  mingled  with  reproofs  and 
approvals,  the  sympathy  that  meets  and  assuages  every 
sorrow  and  sweetens  every  little  success — all  these  re- 
turn to  me  amid  the  responsibilities  which  press  upon 
me  now,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  once  lived  in  heaven,  and, 
straying,  had  lost  my  way. 

Well,  the  good  man  grew  old  and  weary,  and  fell 
asleep  at  last,  with  blessings  on  his  lips  for  me.  Some 
of  those  who  called  him  father  lie  side  by  side  with  him 
in  the  same  calm  sleep.  The  others  are  scattered,  and 
dwell  in  new  homes,  and  the  old  house  and  barn  and 
orchard  have  passed  into  the  possession  of  strangers, 
who  have  learned,  or  are  learning,  to  look  back  upon 
them  as  I  do  now.  Lost,  ruined,  forever  left  behind, 
that  home  is  mine  to-day  as  truly  as  it  ever  was,  for 
have  I  not  brought  it  away  with  me,  and  shown  it  to 
you  ?  It  was  the  home  of  my  boyhood.  In  it  I  found 
my  first  mental  food,  and  by  it  was  my  young  soul 
fashioned.  To  me,  through  weary  years,  and  many 
dangers  and  sorrows,  it  has  been  a  perennial  fountain 
of  delight  and  purifying  influences,  simply  because  it 
was  my  home,  and  was  and  is  a  part  of  me.  The 
rose  at  the  gate  blooms  for  me  now.  The  land- 
scape comes  when  I  summon  it,  and  I  hear  the  voices 


Home.  269 

that  call  to  me  from  lips  which  memory  makes  im- 
mortal. 

Thus  the  memory  of  the  past  joins  hands  with  the 
experience  and  observation  of  to-day,  to  illustrate  and 
enforce  the  philosophy  which  I  have  propounded.  A 
homeless  man,  or  a  man  hopeless  of  home,  is  a  ruined 
man.  A  man  who,  in  the  struggles  of  life,  has  no  home 
to  retire  to,  in  fact  or  in  memory,  is  without  life's  best 
rewards  and  life's  best  defences.  Away  from  home, 
shut  off  from  the  income  of  those  influences  which  feed 
his  life — from  those  relations  along  which  the  life  of 
God  is  accustomed  to  flow  to  him — a  man  stands  ex- 
actly where  evil  will  the  most  readily  get  the  mastery 
of  him.  A  man  is  always  nearest  to  his  good  when  at 
home,  and  farthest  from  it  when  away. 

One  of  the  very  first  duties  of  life,  I  say  again,  is 
the  establishment  of  a  home  which  shall  be  to  us  and 
to  our  children  the  fountain  and  reservoir  of  our  best 
life  ;  and  this  home  should  be  a  permanent  one,  if  pos- 
sible. Home  is  the  centre  of  every  true  life,  the  place 
where  all  sweet  affections  are  brought  forth  and  nur- 
tured, the  spot  to  which  memory  clings  the  most  fond- 
ly, and  to  which  the  wanderer  returns  the  most  gladly. 
It  is  worth  a  life  of  care  and  labor  to  win  for  ourselves, 
and  the  dear  children  whom  we  love  as  ourselves,  a 
home  whose  influence  shall  enrich  us  and  them  while 
life  lasts.  God  pity  the  poor  child  who  cannot  asso- 


270  _     Gold-Foil. 

ciatc  his  youth  with  some  .dear  spot  where  ho 
drank  iu  life's  freshness,  and  shaped  the  character  he 
bears ! 

The  choosing  of  a  home  is  one  of  the  most  momen- 
tous steps  a  man  is  ever  called  upon  to  make.  If  we 
plant  a  tree  with  the  hope  to  sit  some  time  beneath  its 
shadow,  and  eat  of  its  fruit,  we  do  not  plant  it  in  the 
sand,  or  in  a  stream  of  running  water.  It  is  astonish- 
ing to  see  the  multitudes  that  thoughtlessly  plant  their 
homes  in  moral  and  intellectual  deserts — to  see  them 
building  houses  where  there  is  no  society,  or  only  that 
which  is  bad,  where  the  church-bell  is  never  heard,  and 
where  a  fertile  and  fruitful  home-life  is  absolutely  im- 
possible. For  money  men  will  rush  from  the  healthful 
and  pleasant  country  village  to  the  feverish  and  stony 
city,  or  forsake  a  thousand  privileges  that  are  valuable 
beyond  all  price,  and  settle  in  a  wilderness  where  the 
degeneration  of  their  home  is  certain.  Circumstances 
may  force  one  into  locations  like  these,  but  they  can 
only  be  regarded  as  calamitous.  Communion  is  the 
law  of  growth,  and  homes  only  thrive  where  they  sus- 
tain relations  with  each  other. 

The  sweetest  type  of  heaven  is  home — nay,  heaven 
itself  is  the  home  for  whose  acquisition  we  are  to  strive 
the  most  strongly.  Home,  in  one  form  and  another,  is 
the  great  object  of  life.  It  stands  at  the  end  of 
every  day's  labor,  and  beckons  us  to  its  bosom ; 


Home.  271 

and  life  would  be  cheerless  and  meaningless,  did  we 
not  discern  across  the  river  that  divides  it  from  the 
life  beyond,  glimpses  of  the  pleasant  mansions  pre- 
pared for  us. 


XXIV. 

LEARNING  AND  WISDOM. 

"  A  mere  scholar  at  court  is  an  ass  among  apes." 
"  A  handful  of  common  sense  is  worth  a  bushel  of  learning." 
"  Wisdom  does  not  always  speak  in  Greek  and  Latin." 
"  A  man  must  sell  his  ware  at  the  rate  of  the  market" 

THE  intrinsic  value  of  learning,  as  a  possession  and 
a  power,  is  exhibited  most  remarkably,  perhaps, 
in  a  man  who  knows  every  thing,  and  is  nothing.  He 
may  be  likened  to  a  pond  full  of  water,  without  an  out- 
let. The  water  is  all  very  well  in  itself,  though  none 
the  better  for  being  stagnant.  A  few  lazy  lily-pads 
may  seek  the  sun  upon  its  surface,  but  its  chief  office  is 
to  drink  old  starlight,  to  entertain  the  shadows  of  the 
tall  trees  that  grow  upon  its  banks,  and  to  receive 
them  when  they  fall.  If  it  can  be  artificially  tapped, 
for  the  purpose  of  feeding  some  literary  institution,  as 
the  Bostonians  have  tapped  the  Cochituate,  it  is  very 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  273 

well ;  and  this  seems  to  be  about  the  only  use  it  can 
be  appropriated  to.  Very  unlike  this  is  the  learning 
that  has  a  natural,  common-sense  delivery,  through  a 
stream  that  carries  out  into  the  world,  full  and  free,  its 
aggregated  crystal,  to  feed  the  roots  of  flowers  and 
grasses,  and  slake  the  thirst  of  flocks  and  herds,  and 
torture  the  sunshine  as  it  slides  down  rocky  rapids, 
and  turn  the  mill-wheel  that  grinds  the  corn  and 
weaves  the  fabrics  of  the  poor,  and 

"  Repeat  the  music  of  the  rain" 

at  the  feet  of  plashy  waterfalls,  and  join  and  mingle  in 
the  river  of  human  action  that  sweeps  on  to  fill  the 
ocean  of  human  achievement.  I  do  not  think  that  it 
can  be  said,  truthfully,  that  learning  possesses  intrinsic, 
independent  value,  or  that  it  has  power,  in  and  of  it- 
self to  make  a  man  either  valuable  to  himself  or  the 
world.  Learning  may  as  well  lie  dormant  in  dead 
books  as  in  dead  men.  I  would  as  soon  have  a  library 
that  costs  nothing,  after  purchase,  but  the  dusting,  as 
a  learned  man  who  eats  and  drinks  and  wears  respecta- 
ble broadcloth.  In  fact,  the  library  is  more  orna- 
mental and  less  troublesome  than  the  man,  and  is  not 
always  painfully  reminding  one  that  it  might  possibly 
have  made  a  good  tin-peddler  if  it  had  begun  early 
enough  in  life. 

I  am  aware  that  this  is  not  the  usual  view  of  this 
12* 


274  Gold-Foil. 

subject.  Some,  perhaps,  assent  to  it  rationally,  but 
practically  it  is  hardly  entertained  at  all.  The  pupil 
in  the  humblest  school  is  estimated  entirely  according 
to  his  capacity  to  cram  into  his  mental  ma\v  and  retain 
the  facts  in  philosophy,  science,  and  history  set  before 
him.  Memory  is  every  thing  ;  reason,  thorough  intel- 
lectual digestion,  and  symmetrical  intellectual  develop- 
ment, are  nothing.  This  runs  up  the  whole  grade  of 
educational  institutions,  and  comes  to  a  head  not  un- 
frcquently  on  Commencement  days,  when  the  ass  of  a 
class  pronounces  the  valedictory,  to  subside  into  nonen- 
tity, and  the  really  educated  man  leaves  without  an 
appointment,  and  with  the  pitying  contempt  of  the 
Faculty,  to  win  the  world's  prizes,  reflect  honor  upon 
the  college,  and  to  take  rank  among  the  intellectual 
giants  of  his  time.  Learning  and  education  are  widely 
deemed  identical  things  and  synonymous  words.  Con- 
sequently we  have  among  the  learned,  in  a  work-a-day 
world  like  this,  constant  surprises.  They  find  them- 
selves shelved,  laid  aside,  left  behind,  while  the  un- 
learned take  their  places  in  the  world's  eye,  in  the 
world's  heart,  and  in  the  world's  work.  Cobblers 
represent  a  state  full  of  colleges  in  the  national  coun- 
cils, machinists  become  brilliant  speakers  and  wise 
governors,  and  country  merchants  stand  at  the  head 
of  educational  systems  that  embrace  the  growing  mind 
of  a  state.  All  the  developments  of  the  age  serve  to 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  275 

illustrate  the  superiority  of  wisdom  and  common  sense 
to  mere  learning,  and  the  utter  worthlessness  of  all 
learning,  when  dissociated  from  those  qualities  and 
powers  which  can  bring  it  into  relation  with  the  prac- 
tical questions  and  every-day  life  of  the  time. 

I  am  not  seeking  to  depreciate  learning,  but  to  de- 
fine its  real  value  and  its  only  value.  It  has  stood  in 
the  way  of  the  world's  progress,  almost  as  much  as  it 
has  contributed  to  it.  Its  tendency  is  to  worship  the 
old — to  abide  within  the  bounds  of  old  formularies  in- 
vented by  a  less  developed  life  than  ours,  to  look  chaos- 
ward  for  light  instead  of  millennium- ward,  to  seek  for 
truth  among  the  broken  fountains  of  the  schools  rather 
than  at  truth's  own  fountain,  to  follow  in  the  track  of 
old  systems  grown  too  narrow  for  the  expanding  life 
of  the  present,  and  to  enchain  itself  with  the  bonds  of 
old  creeds  and  old  philosophies.  The  spirit  of  learning, 
particularly  as  manifested  through  the  learned  profes- 
sions, is  an  arrogant,  self-sufficient,  self-complacent,  and 
proscriptive  spirit.  It  lays  its  ban  on  all  schemes  of 
improvement,  all  experimental  search  for  truth,  all 
speculation  in  the  field  of  thought,  which  itself  does 
not  originate.  All  trade  carried  on  outside  its  marts 
is  contraband.  It  calls  unlearned  thinkers  "  quacks," 
indiscriminately.  All  systems  of  philosophy  and  art, 
of  which  it  is  not  the  father,  are  illegitimate. 

Medicine  is  a  "  learned  profession,"  and  its  learning 


276  Gold-Foil. 

has  been  converted  into  its  bane.  It  is  bound  to  its 
books,  and  its  formulas,  and  its  unreasoning  routine 
with  a  devotion  so  insane,  that  its  professors  band 
themselves  in  societies  by  which  every  member  is  kept 
to  his  creed  through  fear  of  proscription,  and  by  which 
all  outside  experimenters  in  the  healing  art,  however 
truth-loving,  ingenious  and  scientific,  are  professionally 
and  socially  damned.  Any  man  who  leaps  out  of  the 
regular  old  professional  frying-pan,  alights  in  a  fire  of 
professional  malediction.  It  is  all  a  regular  physician's 
reputation  is  worth  to  seek  for  truth  out  of  the  well- 
trodden,  regular  channels,  particularly  if  the  new  chan- 
nels have  become  objects  of  professional  prejudice  and 
jealousy.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  of  course,  to 
retard  the  progress  of  medicine  as  a  healing  art.  Medi- 
cal learning  has  absolutely  fought  against  every  great 
medical  discovery,  and  not  unfrequently  against  im- 
portant discoveries  in  the  constituent  sciences.  All 
other  arts  have  advanced  within  the  last  century  be- 
yond calculation.  It  has  been  a  century  of  progress  in 
art  and  discovery  in  science ;  but  we  look  in  vain  for 
those  advances  in  medical  science  and  art  wrhich  place 
them  even-footed  with  their  thrifty  sisterhood. 

Let  me  not  be  misapprehended  in  these  statements. 
I  am  neither  talking  about  nor  against  any  system  of 
medicine.  I  am  simply  condemning  that  arrogant 
spirit  of  professionally  associated  learning,  which  as- 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  277 

sumes  the  monopoly  of  all  that  is  truly  known  of  the 
subject  of  medicine,  and  the  privilege  and  right  of 
making  all  changes  and  discoveries  in  medical  art  and 
science.  I  condemn  the  spirit  which  refuses  to  see,  and 
hear,  and  consider,  and  treat  respectfully,  all  truth,  by 
whatever  man  discovered — from  whatever  source  it 
may  proceed.  I  condemn  the  spirit  which  makes  a 
man  a  bond-slave  to  a  system  devised  by  other  men, 
and  whose  prominent  effect  is  to  create  more  reverence 
for  authority  than  for  truth.  I  condemn  the  spirit 
which  sets  learning  above  wisdom  and  common  sense. 
I  condemn  the  spirit  which,  in  effect,  binds  men  to  a 
blind,  unreasoning  routine,  and  forbids  their  entrance 
into  the  field  of  intelligent,  rational  experiment.  I 
condemn  the  spirit  which  makes  medical  heterodoxy  a 
social  crime,  to  be  punished  by  social  proscription.  I 
condemn  the  spirit  which  is  the  principal  hindrance  to 
the  development  of  the  noblest,  most  humane,  most 
useful,  and  most  important  of  all  the  arts. 

The  law,  too,  is  a  learned  profession,  whose  only  le- 
gitimate office  is  to  promote  the  ends  of  justice  among 
men,  and  whose  constant  practice  is  to  pervert  justice, 
or  prevent  it,  by  resort  to  the  technicalities  and  forms 
with  which  it  is  hide-bound.  There  is  no  department 
of  human  interest  that  is  so  full  of  the  lumber — the  old 
dead  stuff — of  learning,  as  the  law.  A  simple  matter 
of  justice  between  man  and  man  would  seem  to  be  a 


278  Gold-Foil. 

simple  matter  to  adjudicate,  on  a  competent  represen- 
tation of  facts.  It  would  seem  to  be  a  matter  easily  to 
be  handled  and  quickly  disposed  of;  but  learning  re- 
sorts to  forms  for  delay,  and  picks  flaws  in  forms  for 
escape,  and  hunts  among  maggots  for  precedents,  and 
bewilders  with  the  array  of  authority,  until  that  which 
is  simple  becomes  complicated,  and  an  affair  of  thirty 
minutes  becomes  a  thing  of  ten  years.  I  have  such  a 
respect  for  the  law,  that  I  believe  that  if  every  law  and 
law-book  ever  written  were  smitten  from  existence,  the 
honest,  common-sense  lawyers  of  to-day  could  frame 
codes  of  law  and  rules  for  their  administration  that 
would  shorten  and  cheapen  the  processes  of  justice  by 
the  amount  of  nine-tenths.  I  believe  that  every  law- 
yer believes  this,  yet  he  allows  this  rotten,  cumbersome 
conglomeration  of  relics  of  effete  institutions,  and  pro- 
ducts of  defunct  ingenuities,  to  warp,  and  mould,  and 
modify  his  nature,  till  he  becomes  a  slave  of  authority 
and  precedent  in  every  thing,  with  red  tape  in  every 
button-hole,  and  a  green  bag  on  his  head. 

Religion  is  a  simple  thing,  so  simple  that  "  a  way- 
faring man,  though  a  fool,  need  not  err  therein."  The 
only  fountain  of  religious  truth  is  the  Bible.  We  have 
it  in  our  native  tongue,  and  many  a  simple  soul,  with- 
out the  aid  of  clergyman  or  schoolman,  has  drawn  from  it 
the  inspiration  of  a  new  life  and  all  the  instruction  that 
he  needed  touching  his  relations  to  God  and  men.  Yet 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  279 

theology — human  invention  and  human  learning — has 
made  religion  a  very  complicated  thing.  It  has  ele- 
vated dogma,  and  creed,  and  formulary  into  promi- 
nence, and  debased  love  and  life  into  obscurity.  It  in 
sists  more  on  faith  in  tenets  than  in  God,  and  denies  to 
a  Christian  spirit  the  fellowship  which  it  accords  to 
rational  belief.  The  disgraceful  wrangles  of  the  relig- 
ious newspapers,  the  great  disputes  of  the  schools,  and 
the  high  controversies  of  the  pulpit  and  the  pamphlet, 
are  the  quarrels  and  strifes  for  mastery  of  theologians, 
not  Christians— of  learning,  not  love.  Theology  clings 
to  old  words  and  phrases  after  their  life  has  departed. 
Theology  is  arrogant,  selfish,  and  proud.  Theology  ex- 
cludes from  the  table  of  the  Lord  those  whom  He  has 
accepted.  Theology  denies  fellowship  and  communion 
to  those  whom  Love  expects  to  meet  in  Heaven.  The- 
ology casts  out  of  the  synagogue  those  who  rise  to 
think,  while  Christ  forgives  those  who  stoop  to  sin,  and, 
without  condemnation,  bids  them  sin  no  more.  Theol- 
ogy builds  rival  churches,  pits  against  each  other  rival 
sects,  and  wastes  God's  money.  I  believe  that  it  would 
be  every  way  better  for  the  world,  if  every  book  of 
dogmatic  and  controversial  theology  could  be  blotted 
out  of  existence,  and  Christendom  were  obliged  to 
begin  anew,  drawing  every  thing  from  the  great 
Book  of  Books,  leaving  Paul  and  Apollos,  and 
Princeton,  and  Now  Haven,  and  Cambridge,  behind, 


280  Gold-Foil. 

and  learning   of   Him    "who   spake    as    never  man 
spake." 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is,  that  the  learned 
world  has  become  so  deeply  involved  hi  the  thoughts 
of  those  who  have  gone  before — so  accustomed  to  fol- 
lowing old  channels,  and  to  paying  reverence  to  the 
opinions  and  systems  of  schools,  that  it  cannot  step  out 
freely  into  the  field  of  truth  and  handle  things  as  it 
finds  them.  The  common  sense  that  deals  with  things 
instead  of  systems  which  treat  of  them,  and  the  wisdom 
which  grows  out  of  this  intimate  contact  and  loving  as- 
sociation with  the  actualities  of  human  life  and  expe- 
rience, are  worth  more  to  the  world  than  all  the  learn- 
ing in  it.  This  handling  of  the  vital  realities  of  to-day 
with  the  gloves  of  dead  men ;  this  slow  dragging  of 
the  trains  of  the  present  over  old  grass-grown  turn- 
pikes ;  this  old  monopoly  of  power  and  privilege  among 
interests  that  touch  every  individual — the  highest  and 
the  humblest ;  this  stopping  of  the  wheels  of  progress, 
at  every  toll-gate  and  frontier,  for  the  benefit  of  learned 
publicans,  is  certainly  against  the  common  sense  of  the 
world,  as  it  undoubtedly  is  against  "  the  spirit  of  the 
age,"  if  anybody  knows  exactly  what  that  is.  Any 
thing  and  every  thing  which  places  fetters  upon  the 
spirit  of  inquiry,  which  blinds  the  eyes  of  discovery, 
and  abridges  the  freedom  of  thought,  whether  it  be 
contained  in  the  lore  of  past  ages  or  of  the  present 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  281 

time,  is  a  thing  to  be  contemned  and  abjured.  A  living 
man  with  a  carcase  lashed  to  his  back  may  creep  but  he 
cannot  run. 

Learning  runs  back  for  every  thing,  and  reaches  for- 
ward for  nothing.  It  educates  the  young  Christian 
mind  of  to-day  by  leading  it  through  a  literature  whose 
highest  inspirations  were  found  in  paganism.  It  seeks 
for  models  of  style  and  expression  among  authors  en- 
throned among  the  classical,  who  only  became  worthy 
of  the  distinction  by  laying  their  hearts  by  the  side  of 
Nature,  that  realm  which  is  spread  all  around  us  now, 
illuminated  with  Christian  light,  yet  forsaken  for  second- 
hand sources  of  instruction.  It  ignores  the  theory  and 
the  fact  of  human  progress,  and  reverses  the  order  of 
nature  by  making  an  old  world  obedient  to  a  young 
world. 

But  I  stay  too  long  from  the  definition  of  the  legiti- 
mate sphere  and  real  value  of  learning.  Whenever 
learning  becomes  tributary  to  wisdom,  it  occupies  its 
legitimate  sphere,  and  by  the  amount  of  its  tribute  is  it 
valuable.  The  soul  that  abides  in  learning  as  an  end — 
that  pursues  learning  as  an  end — that  finds  in  it  food, 
raiment,  and  guidance — that  surrenders  itself  to  the 
records  of  other  minds,  perverts  learning  and  perverts 
itself.  The  soul  that  uses  learning  as  a  means  by  which 
to  project  itself  into  a  higher  life — that  stands  upon  it, 
with  all  its  truth  and  all  its  falsehood,  as  upon  a  platform 


282  Gold-Foil. 

from  which  it  may  survey  a  better  truth  and  a  nobler 
issue — uses  learning  aright,  and  is  enriched.  The  fu- 
ture is  an  untrodden  realm.  Around  each  step,  as  the 
world  advances,  new  circumstances  will  gather,  new 
emergencies  arise,  new  problems  present  themselves  for 
solution.  With  these  circumstances,  emergencies,  and 
problems,  the  common  sense  and  wisdom  of  the  world 
are  to  deal,  and  not  the  world's  learning.  We  do  not 
repeat  through  unvarying  cycles  the  experiences  of  the 
past.  Comparatively  little  of  the  records  of  life  and 
thought  of  the  ages  that  are  gone  can  have  direct  rela- 
tion to  the  ages  that  are  to  come.  If  the  learned  men 
of  the  present  find  themselves  left  behind  in  the  race 
of  life,  it  is  simply  and  only  because,  while  they  have 
been  walking  among  graves,  or  busying  themselves 
with  facts  for  which  the  real  life  of  the  world  has  no 
use,  the  wisdom  and  common  sense  of  the  world  have 
got  in  advance  of  them.  A  man  must  sell  his  ware  at 
the  rate  of  the  market,  not  only,  but  he  must  supply 
the  market  with  what  it  demands. 

But  learning  has  a  noble  value.  It  is  like  the  mould 
that  accumulates  from  the  decay  of  each  succeeding 
year  of  vegetation.  It  furnishes  a  humus  into  which 
the  roots  of  mental  and  moral  life  may  penetrate  for 
nourishment,  but  out  of  which  that  life  must  spring  and 
mount  into  the  air  and  sunlight.  Human  life  is  not  a 
potato— a  bloated  tuber  that  battens  in  the  muck  of 


Learning  and  Wifdom.  283 

other  times,  but  a  stalk  of  maize,  burdened  with  golden 
fruitage,  and  whispering  through  all  its  leaves  of  the 
life  within  it  and  the  influences  without  it.  It  is  not  a 
thing  whose  issue  and  end  are  in  its  roots,  but  in  a  life 
to  which  those  roots  are  tributary ;  and  all  the  learning 
which  may  not  be  assimilated  to  that  life  is  as  valueless 
as  the  dust  of  its  authors. 


XXV. 

RECEIVING  AND  DOING. 

"  Virtue  consists  in  action." 

"  Ho  who  does  no  more  than  another,  is  no  better  than  (mother." 

"  Let  not  him  who  has  a  mouth  ask  another  to  blow." 

44  Do  good  if  you  expect  to  receive  good." 

THERE  is  no  healthy  physical  life  without  a  proper 
balance  of  the  active  and  receptive  habitudes  of 
the  body.  If  a  man  eat  too  much  and  act  too  little,  lie 
will  become  gross  and  gouty,  or  dull  and  dyspeptic. 
If  he  act  too  much  and  eat  too  little,  he  will  be  weak 
and  inefficient,  or  spasmodic  and  irascible.  It  is  not 
enough  to  eat ;  it  is  not  enough  to  work ;  but  eating 
and  working  should  go  hand  in  hand — the  first  being 
sufficient  to  supply  the  vital  expenditure,  and  the  vital 
expenditure  being  sufficient  to  exhaust  the  supply  fur- 
nished by  the  food.  By  this  balance,  the  digestive 
functions  are  kept  sharp  and  healthy,  and  the  muscular 


Receiving  and  Doing.  285 


organs  are  developed  to  the  measure  of  their  power. 
The  man  who  eats  much  and  works  little  is  necessarily 
a  stupid  man ;  but  the  man. who  expends  in  labor  what 
he  has  received  in  food,  in  a  legitimate  way,  finds  him- 
eelf,  under  favorable  conditions,  the  possessor  of  a  happy 
and  a  healthy  life. 

We  can  have  no  better  illustration  than  this  of  the 
necessity  to  healthy  mental  life  of  the  preservation  of  a 
proper  balance  between  the  active  and  receptive  atti- 
tudes and  habitudes  of  the  mind.  The  mind  that  imag- 
ines that  its  grand  good  is  to  be  achieved  while  in  its 
receptive  attitude — that  is  bent  on  receiving  and  ac- 
quiring— will  find  itself  greatly  mistaken  ;  yet  the 
theory  of  education  is  mainly  the  theory  of  acquiring, 
and  contemplates  almost  entirely  a  receptive  habit. 
The  honors  paid  to  simple  learning  are  tributes  to  the 
faculty  and  fact  of  mental  stuffing.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  the  very  learned  men  of  the  world  are  those 
who  really  do  nothing  for  themselves  or  their  race — 
who  are  not  recognized  as  powers  in  society,  and 
whose  simplicity,  lack  of  common  sense,  and  inability  to 
take  care  of  themselves,  make  them  the  laughing-stock 
of  boys  who  have  ciphered  through  the  Rule  of  Three, 
and  learned  to  look  out  for  number  one.  There  is  a 
curse  on  all  intellectual  gormandizing — all  reception 
of  mental  food  that  Is  not  made  tributary  to  mental 
power.  An  individual  who  is  simply  a  man  of  learning 


286  Gold-Foil. 

— whose  life  has  been  expended  in  acquisition — is  no 
man  at  all.  A  man  of  science  who  does  not  go  out 
from  books  into  discovery,  or  who  does  not  aim  to 
apply  his  knowledge  to  practical  life,  or  who  does  not 
become  active  in  organizing  and  imparting  the  knowl- 
edge he  has  acquired,  must  become  intellectually  an 
invalid,  or  an  imbecile. 

This  is  an  age  of  reading,  and  I  am  glad  that  it  is ; 
but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  reading  that  is  as  much 
mental  dissipation  as  there  is  eating  that  is  a  waste  of 
bodily  power.  Newspapers,  books,  and  magazines,  are 
devoured  by  the  cargo,  for  which  the  devourers  render 
no  return,  and  from  which  they  gam  no  strength.  A 
great  reader — a  constant  and  universal  reader — is  rarely 
a  good  worker.  A  receptive  habit  of  mind,  that  can 
only  find  satisfaction  in  devouring,  without  digesting, 
illimitable  print,  is  mental  death  to  a  man.  It  is  essen- 
tial dissipation,  opposed  alike  to  healthy  mental  life  and 
development,  and  positive  usefulness  in  the  world.  This 
perfect  balance  between  reception  and  action — between 
acquiring  and  doing — cannot  be  disturbed  in  the  men- 
tal any  more  than  in  the  muscular  world,  without  bring- 
ing with  it  disease  and  imbecility. 

The  facts  that  I  have  stated  with  regard  to  the  body 
and  the  mind  are  important  enough  in  themselves  to 
call  for  exhibition,  but  they  serve  to  illustrate,  with 
peculiar  force,  the  dangers  of  the  receptive  habit  that 


Receiving  and  Doing.  287 

prevails  in  the  realm  of  spiritual  things.  It  is  no  less 
an  age  of  preaching  than  of  reading.  All  over  this 
land  congregations  of  uncounted  thousands  go  up  every 
Sunday  to  be  played  upon  by  sermons — to  have  their 
intellects  quickened,  their  sympathies  excited,  their 
imaginations  inspired,  and  their  whole  spiritual  natures 
acted  upon  by  their  preacher.  They  want  a  morning 
sermon,  and  an  afternoon  sermon,  and  many  of  them 
would  be  glad  to  have  an  evening  sermon.  They  go  to 
their  weekly  prayer-meeting,  and  would  always  be  glad 
to  have  a  sermon  there.  They  love  to  have  their 
hearts  raked  open  and  stirred  up  by  an  eloquent  ex- 
hortation, or  melted  by  the  pathos  of  a  touching  prayer. 
Their  hearts  are  not  only  open  and  crying  for  more 
from  the  preacher,  but  they  are  open  toward  God,  and 
crying  to  Him  for  more.  They  thirst  for  the  influx  of 
divine  influences  that  shall  elevate  their  spiritual  frame. 
Receptive  always,  thirsting  and  hungering  always,  al- 
ways eating  and  drinking,  they  become  thoroughly  dis- 
sipated in  religion,  their  spiritual  life  degenerates  into 
an  emotional  form,  and  so  they  become  unfitted  for 
Christian  action. 

I  have  known  multitudes  of  good  and  pure  people 
who  were  almost  utterly  useless  in  the  world,  and 
powerless  in  themselves,  by  remaining  for  years  in  this 
strictly  receptive  attitude.  I  have  known  multitudes 
who  go  to  a  prayer-meeting  to  have  a  good  time,  pro- 


288  Gold-Foil. 

cisely  the  same  as  others  would  go  to  a  ball  to  have  a 
good  time.  Their  religious  exercises  have  become  a 
sort  of  holy  amusement.  They  go  to  be  stirred  and 
refreshed,  to  have  their  emotions  excited,  and  to  re- 
ceive something  which  shah1  make  them  feel.  They 
care  not  so  much  to  learn  how  to  do  better  as  to  be 
made  to  feel  better.  Exaltation  of  emotion — spiritual 
intoxication — is  the  object  mainly  sought  for.  Woe  be 
to  the  preacher  if  he  fail  so  to  act  upon  them  as  to 
procure  the  fulfilment  of  this  object.  It  will  not  be 
enough  that  he  lay  down  the  law  and  line  of  duty  with 
faithfulness,  and  spend  his  days  in  visits  and  labors  of 
sympathy  and  love.  He  must  preach  with  power ;  he 
must  pour  forth  with  abundance  ;  he  must  bring  stimu- 
lating draughts  to  the  greedy  lips  of  decaying  emo- 
tions, or  he  will  be  proscribed. 

It  is  precisely  thus  with  the  music  of  the  sanctuary. 
The  number  of  hearts  that  go  up  actively  in  a  song  of 
praise,  in  a  congregation  of  five  hundred  persons,  is 
very  small.  Hearts  and  ears  are  thrown  open  to  drink 
in  the  influence  of  the  music,  as  if  the  congregation, 
and  not  God,  were  addressed  by  the  hymn.  In  the 
minds  of  too  many  ministers  prayer  itself  is  something 
to  be  addressed  in  about  equal  parts  to  the  congrega- 
tion and  to  the  Most  High.  It  is  regarded  not  alto- 
gether as  the  vehicle  for  aspiration  and  petition,  but  as 
a  portion  of  the  machinery  by  which  their  people  are 


Receiving  and  Doing.  289 

to  be  moved.  I  have  heard  theology,  exhortation,  and 
even  personal  condemnation  mingled  with  addresses  to 
the  throne — not  ^infrequently  a  whole  family  history. 
It  is  hard  sometimes  to  tell  a  sermon  from  a  prayer.  If 
ministers  so  far  forget  the  proprieties  of  prayer  as  to 
prostitute  it  to  the  purposes  of  declamation,  the  people 
may  well  talk  of  "eloquent  prayers,"  and  of  men 
"  gifted  hi  prayer,"  and  forget  that  it  is  God  and  not 
themselves  who  is  the  object  addressed.  Thus  it  is 
that  nearly  all  the  "  means  of  grace,"  technically  speak- 
ing, contemplate  a  receptive  attitude  on  the  part  of  the 
people.  They  are  preached  to,  sung  to,  prayed  to; 
and,  as  the  preaching  and  singing  and  praying  are  cal- 
culated to  feed  their  emotional  natures,  or  otherwise, 
are  they  satisfied  or  dissatisfied. 

Now  the  whole  tendency  of  this  thing  is  to  spiritual 
debility  and  imbecility.  Some  of  the  most  inefficient 
churches  in  this  country  are  those  wlu'ch  have  what  is 
called  great  preaching,  and  "  splendid  music."  They 
enjoy  their  Sabbath ;  they  have  most  refreshing  seasons 
of  communion,  they  hold  delightful  prayer-meetings, 
and  imagine  that  all  is  right  with  them,  while  they  see 
no  results  of  good  to  others  around  them,  and  wonder 
at  it.  How  long  must  the  world  live  before  the 
Christian  church  will  learn  that  its  power  in  the  world 
depends  on  what  it  does,  and  not  on  what  it  feels? 

How  long  must  the  church  live  before  it  will  learn  that 
13 


290  Gold-Foil. 

strength  is  won  by  action,  and  success  by  work,  and 
that  all  this  immeasurable  feeding  without  action  and 
work  is  a  positive  damage  to  it — that  it  is  the  procurer 
of  spiritual  obesity,  gout,  and  debility? 

The  world  of  Christian  life  wants  to  be  turned 
squarely  around,  and  be  made  to  assume  a  new  attitude. 
The  world  is  never  to  be  converted  by  Christian  feel- 
ing. What  difference  will  it  make  with  my  careless 
neighbor  that  I  have  enjoyed  a  fine  sermon,  if  it  do  not 
move  me  to  efforts  for  his  good  ?  What  will  it  avail 
my  sweet  friend  who  languishes  upon  her  death-bed 
that  my  sympathies  have  been  played  upon  by  eloquent 
lips,  if  they  do  not  lead  me  to  her  bedside  with  offices 
of  kindness  and  words  of  cheer  ?  Why  and  how  is  the 
world  better  for  the  powerful  representation  to  me  of 
the  claims  of  Christianity,  if  it  do  not  stir  me  up  to  the 
work  of  gathering  and  saving  the  neglected  little  ones 
who  are  growing  into  a  vicious  and  ignorant  manhood 
and  womanhood  ?  Am  I  selfishly  to  congratulate  my- 
self that  I  have  obtained  new  views  of  the  divine  na- 
ture and  the  divine  love,  without  zealously  endeavoring 
to  bring  the  dumb  and  dead  souls  around  me  to  the 
same  recognition  ?  "  He  that  does  no  more  than 
another  is  no  better  than  another."  Life  has  language 
always.  Expression  is  the  natural  offspring  of  posses- 
sion. If  my  life  and  my  spiritual  possessions  exceed 
the  measure  of  another  man,  they  will  demonstrate 


Receiving  and  Doing.  291 

their  superiority  in  action.  If  my  humane  but  un- 
christian neighbor  do  more  good  than  I  do,  then  his 
humanity,  as  a  motive  principle  of  life,  is  better  than 
my  Christianity. 

There  are  three  distinct  aspects  in  which  Christian 
action  may  be  viewed  with  propriety  and  profit.  The 
first  relates  to  spiritual  development.  There  can  be  no 
growth  of  power,  in  any  faculty  of  the  soul,  or  any 
combination  of  faculties,  without  use.  Action  is  the 
law  and  condition  of  spiritual  development,  as  it  is  of 
muscular  development.  That  which  we  try  to  do,  and 
persist  in  doing,  becomes  easy  to  do,  not  because  its 
nature  is  changed,  but  because  our  power  to  do  is  de- 
veloped. Christian  beneficence  is  a  grace  that  grows 
by  cultivation.  A  man  who  is  accustomed  to  give  is 
the  man  who  gives  freely  and  gladly.  An  excellent 
thing  for  spiritual  plethora  is  the  bleeding  of  the  pock- 
et-book. It  is  only  those  who  do — who  act — that  be- 
come powers  in  the  Christian  world.  A  man  may  hear 
a  hundred  and  fifty  sermons  in  a  year,  and  five  hundred 
prayers  and  as  many  hymns,  and  be  melted  and  stirred 
and  exalted  by  them,  and  still  be  a  spiritual  baby, 
without  nerve,  or  faculty,  or  power,  and  even  without 
having  learned  any  thing  practically.  It  is  only  those 
who  do  their  duty  that  learn  the  doctrine  aright.  It 
is  only  those  who  come  into  contact  with  human  na- 
ture and  human  condition  in  the  work  of  Christianity 


292  Gold-Foil. 

that  learn  and  appreciate  its  relation  to  that  nature 
and  condition.  We  know  the  truth  of  a  principle  by 
applying  it  in  practice.  The  principle  of  Davy's  safety 
lamp  may  be  received  as  true,  but  it  is  not  known  to 
be  true  till  the  lamp  is  made  and  used.  We  accept  the 
proposition  that  it  is'  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive, but  we  know  nothing  about  it,  until  we  try  it 
and  demonstrate  it.  It  is  in  the  line  of  duty  that  all 
the  highest  truth  becomes  incorporated  into  the  soul's 
knowledge.  A  Christian  who  does  nothing  is  not  only 
undeveloped  as  a  man  of  power,  but  he  absolutely 
knows  nothing.  All  truth  is  to  be  digested,  assimi- 
lated, developed  into  life,  before  it  really  becomes  a 
possession — no  less  than  before  it  becomes  a  power. 

The  second  aspect  in  which  Christian  action  may 
be  viewed  is  that  which  relates  to  the  outside  world. 
In  the  development  of  the  subject  this  has  already 
been  touched  upon,  but  more  remains  to  be  said.  It 
is  a  notorious  and  well-recognized  fact  that,  consider- 
ing the  agencies  engaged  in  the  Christian  work,  the 
results  are  small.  I  place  the  responsibility  for  these 
insignificant  results  upon  the  constantly  receptive  and 
persistently  inactive  position  of  the  church  itself. 
There  was  never  so  much  good  preaching,  praying/ 
and  singing  in  the  world  as  now.  There  was  never  a 
more  general  disposition  to  "go  to  meeting."  The 
Christian  ministry  were  never  so  put  up  to  the  exhibi- 


Receiving  and  Doing.  293 


tion  of  every  faculty  within  them  as  in  this  age.  It  is 
all  feeding,  feeding,  feeding.  It  is  all  ministry  to  the 
greedy  flock.  "We  pay  better  salaries  than  we  used 
to,  and  expect  more  for  the  money,  yet  we  grow  dead 
and  dumb  from  year  to  year.  The  church  is  not  gen- 
erally aggressive.  Now  and  then,  here  and  there,  it 
becomes  active,  and  immediately  there  springs  up  a 
great  reformation,  but  the  lesson  is  unheeded,  and  we 
go  on  gorging  and  gormandizing,  and  wonder  why 
nothing  comes  of  it  but  increasing  weakness  and  a 
growing  disposition  to  inaction. 

It  is  not  enough  that  the  Christian  give  his  money 
to  feed  the  poor,  and  sustain  efforts  for  the  reclamation 
of  the  vicious,  and  send  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen,  and 
support  the  church  at  home.  The  money  is  wanted, 
and  there  must  be  a  more  general  opening  of  the  purse- 
strings  before  very  great  things  will  be  accomplished  • 
but  more  than  all  is  wanted  direct  personal  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  church.  Everywhere  a  Christian  should 
be  a  positive  power,  distinctly  pronounced  in  some 
way,  so  that  wherever  he  carries  himself,  he  will  carry 
the  power  of  Christianity.  The  world  says  "  what 
does  ho  more  than  others  ?  "  of  the  constantly  recep- 
tive Christian,  and  entertains  a  contempt  as  damaging 
as  it  is  just  for  all  those  Christians  who  do  nothing. 

The  opinion  that  the  world  entertains  of  a  man's 
Christianity  is  usually  a  just  one.  It  is  rarely  far  from 


294  Gold-Foil. 

right.  It  is  perfectly  legitimate  to  say  of  a  man  who 
professes  to  be  a  Christian,  and  gives  no  evidence  in 
his  life  and  influence  of  the  possession  of  Christianity 
as  a  motive  power,  that  his  religion  is  vain. 

It  is  not  only  essential  to  an  undefiled  religion,  that 
a  man  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world,  but  he 
must  visit  the  widows  and  the  fatherless — demonstrate 
the  life  in  him  by  ministry.  When  the  church  shall 
become  active,  and  leave  behind  its  laziness  and  lan- 
guor, and  seek  for  food  that  it  may  have  more  power 
to  work,  and  expend  the  strength  it  gets,  the  world 
will  be  converted,  and  it  is  pretty  safe  to  say  that  it 
will  not  before. 

The  third  aspect  in  which  Christian  action  may  be 
viewed,  contemplates  its  relations  to  God  himself. 
Many  a  man  conscientiously  goes  up  to  the  weekly 
pulpit-feeding,  through  storm  and  sickness,  as  a  matter 
of  duty,  who  never  thinks  of  doing  a  work  of  Christian 
mercy,  or  engaging  in  any  kind  of  ministry  during  the 
week.  Sometimes  a  considerable  sacrifice  of  time  and 
convenience  is  made,  in  order  to  attend  the  weekly 
prayer-meejting,  by  those  who  manage  to  keep  them- 
selves comfortable  in  their  consciences  only  by  this 
means.  Now  the  Christian  world  knows  its  duty  well 
enough.  It  has  no  need  of  half  the  teaching  it  gets. 
It  is  always  feeding  beyond  its  necessities,  and,  as  I 
honestly  believe,  to  its  own  damage.  Let  it  ask  itself 


Receiving  and  Doing.  295 

which  would  please  its  Master  best — teaching  some 
ignorant  child  the  way  of  life,  or  going  to  hear  a  great 
sermon — visiting  and  consoling  some  poor  mourner,  or 
going  to  a  prayer-meeting — stirring  up  some  weak  soul 
to  duty,  or  seeking  for  an  hour  of  emotional  excite- 
ment— going  to  meeting  always,  or  laboring  occasion- 
ally for  the  reclamation  of  some  sad  wanderer  from  the 
path  of  virtue? 

Considering  the  amount  of  good  which  the  church 
has  received,  how  great  a  return  has  it  rendered? 
What  is  it  doing,  and  what  has  it  done,  outside  of  its 
own  immediate  necessities?  It  hires  ministers,  and 
pays  for  tracts,  and  contents  itself  with  the  acquisition 
of  a  cartilaginous  and  an  oleaginous  spirit  and  life.  Oh, 
for  bone  and  muscle,  and  blood  and  nerve,  and  courage 
and  power !  Is  religion  one  of  the  fine  arts,  that  it 
should  consist  in  going  to  meeting  in  good  clothes 
every  Sunday,  saying  grace  at  table,  and  praying  night 
and  morning?  Is  there  every  thing  to  receive,  and 
nothing  to  give  ?  Are  we  so  literally  a  flock  that  we 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  be  fed  all  the  year,  yielding 
only  the  annual  fleece  Avhich  forms  our  pastor's  salary  ? 
Practically  this  is  the  popular  Christian  notion,  but 
how  miserably  unworthy  it  is ! 

Action,  then,  is  alike  the  condition  of  the  develop- 
ment of  Christian  life  as  it  relates  to  the  Christian  him- 
self, of  aggressiveness  as  it  relates  to  the  world,  and 


296  Gold-Foil. 

of  appropriate  return  for  benefits  received.  Religion 
is  not  a  thing  of  emotion  exclusively,  nor  even  mainly. 
It  is  a  motive  power  of  life  in  all  beneficent  directions 
toward  man,  and  in  all  devotional  ways  toward  God. 
It  is  a  life  of  reception  in  one  aspect,  and  a  life  of  action 
in  another.  Of  him  to  whom  much  is  given  much  is 
required.  Every  imbibition  of  truth  and  every  influx 
of  spiritual  life  is  to  thrill  along  the  nerves,  and  invade 
the  veins,  of  the  soul's  faculties,  and  find  manifestation 
in  action.  Emotion,  feeling — these  are  well  enough  if 
they  feed  the  springs  of  power.  Prayer,  praise,  preach- 
ing— these  are  all  good,  and  never  to  be  dispensed  with ; 
but  if  the  life  to  which  they  minister  have  no  manifes- 
tation out  of  them,  it  is  a  failure. 


XXVI. 

THE  SECRET  OF  POPULARITY. 

"  Self-love  is  a  mote  in  every  man's  eye." 

"  If  you  love  yourself  overmuch,  nobody  else  •will  love  yon  at  alL" 
u  If  I  sleep,  I  sleep  for  myself;  if  I  work,  I  know  not  for  whom." 
"  The  way  to  be  admired  is  to  be  what  we  love  to  be  thought." 


is  a  class  of  men  in  every  community  that, 
JL  more  than  any  other  class,  desires  popularity, 
and  less  than  any  other  class  gets  it.  They  may  be 
men  of  pleasant  address  and  honorable  dealing,  but 
there  is  something  about  them  that  repels  the  popular 
sympathy.  If  the  people  were  to  be  questioned  as  to 
the  reasons  of  their  antipathy,  they  would,  hi  most  in- 
stances, find  it  difficult  to  make  an  intelligent  answer. 
They  would  say  with  Tom  Brown  :  — 

"  I  do  not  love  thee,  Doctor  Fell  ; 
The  reason  why  I  cannot  tell, 
But  this  alone  I  know  full  well— 
I  do  not  love  thee,  Doctor  Fell  !  " 

13* 


298  Gold-Foil. 

The  unfailing  heart  recognizes  an  unworthy  and 
repulsive  element  in  these  men,  though  the  intellect 
may  fail  to  comprehend  it.  Now,  if  the  intellect  will 
make  direct  inquiry,  it  will  find  that  these  lovers  of 
popularity  are  supremely  selfish — that  they  love  them- 
selves better  than  any  thing,  or  anybody  else,  and  that 
all  the  popularity  they  long  for  and  seek  for  is  de- 
manded by  their  self-love.  They  are  not  men  of  gener- 
ous impulses,  but  of  cool  and  painstaking  calculation. 
If  they  make  a  gift,  it  is  for  a  purpose.  A  policy  that 
has  its  centre  in  self  overrules  all  their  actions. 

This  element  of  popularity  in  a  man's  character  is 
very  little  understood.  On  looking  about  us,  we  shall 
find  the  popular  favor  bestowed  with  comparatively 
little  reference  to  personal  character.  Many  a  man, 
known  to  be  immoral,  will  have  troops  of  friends,  while 
a  multitude  of  others,  of  whom  nothing  bad  can  be 
said,  will  have  the  affections  of  no  man. 

These  facts  show  me  how  closely,  side  by  side,  the 
better  intuitions  and  instinctive  judgments  of  the  world 
stand  with  the  central  principle  of  Christianity.  The 
world,  no  less  than  Christianity — the  great  human 
heart,  no  less  than  the  true  religion — demands  that 
men  shall  be  unselfish  before  they  receive  personal 
affection  and  favor.  Religion  asks  for  more  than  un- 
selfishness, because  it  lays  its  claims  upon  personal 
character  and  personal  devotion,  but  it  starts  at  that, 


The  Secret  of  Popularity.  299 

as  the  initial  point.  The  world  asks  that  a  man  shall 
be  generous  from  natural  impulse,  and  not  from  any 
special  principle  or  policy.  It  is  often  that  these  im- 
pulsively generous  men  are  impulsively  vicious,  yet 
this  does  not  always,  nor  often,  repel  even  the  good 
from  sympathy  with  them.  We  love  some  men  in  spite 
of  ourselves.  Our  judgment  condemns  them,  our  re- 
ligious feelings  are  offended  by  them ;  yet  the  one  ele- 
ment of  good  which  they  possess  receives  our  admira- 
tion and  our  homage,  and  we  return  their  cordial  grip 
and  greeting  impulsively,  and  protest  only  in  secret 
leisure. 

All  of  us  love  to  stand  well  with  our  fellows.  We 
thirst  for  popular  esteem,  and  rejoice  in  popular  good- 
will. This  desire  for  popularity  is  universal,  though  it 
has  its  birth  in  widely  various  motives ;  but  it  is  never 
satisfied  save  when  it  is  called  forth  by  and  to  generous 
natures.  The  whole  world  loves  Florence  Nightingale, 
simply  because  she  unselfishly  sacrificed  the  ease  and 
comfort  of  a  luxurious  home,  for  the  purpose  of  minis- 
tering to  the  wants  of  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers. 
Half  of  the  world's  admiration  of  Jenny  Lind  grows 
out  of  her  characteristic  benevolence.  The  rough  fire- 
man who  braves  the  dangers  of  a  burning  house,  to 
save  the  life  of  some  helpless  inmate,  is  regarded  as  a 
hero,  and  we  toss  up  our  cap  as  he  goes  by  us.  The 
man  or  the  woman  who,  from  a  generous  impulse,  risks 


300  Gold-Foil. 

danger  and  death  for  others,  or  who,  from  a  similar 
impulse,  becomes  the  subject  of  suffering  or  incon- 
venience that  others  may  be  benefited,  compels  the 
homage  of  every  cognizant  heart. 

If  we  love  ourselves  overmuch,  nobody  else  will 
love  us  at  all.  We  cannot  get  the  world's  esteem 
without  paying  for  it  in  advance ;  and  even  then  our 
sacrifices  will  avail  nothing  unless  they  are  made  with- 
out reference  to  the  object  of  gaining  popularity.  The 
world  has  an  insight  into  motives  which  easily  detects 
the  calculating  element  in  all  beneficence  and  all  gener- 
ous doing.  It  is  the  native,  impulsive,  uncalculating 
generosity  of  a  deed  that  kindles  our  admiration — the 
doing  good  without  reference  to  consequences  that  in- 
spires our  love.  We  demand  that  a  good  deed,  to  be 
the  subject  of  our  admiration,  shall  be  the  spontaneous 
offspring  of  an  unselfish,  chivalrous  heart.  The  mean- 
est man  in  the  world  admires  magnanimity — the  stingi- 
est, uncalculating  generosity — although  he  may  feel 
himself  incapable  of  their  exercise — just  as  a  man 
physically  weak  admires  a  commanding  personal  prow- 
ess, and  a  coward  a  deed  of  daring.  So  the  tribute  to 
generous,  unselfish,  gallant  doing,  is  universal. 

A  thing  which  is  so  good  and  admirable  in  universal 
human  judgment  is  certainly  something  which  demands 
a  careful  consideration,  especially  as  in  it  abides  the 
secret  of  this  universally  coveted  good-will.  The  world 


The  Secret  of  Popularity.  301 

declares  that  selfishness  is  mean,  and  unselfishness, 
generosity,  and  magnanimity  are  noble  and  admirable. 
This  decision  cannot  be  altered,  and  ought  not  to  be. 
A  man  whose  plans  have  reference  only  to  himself  is  a 
contemptible  man.  We  neither  love  him  nor  trust 
him.  The  man  who  says — "  If  I  sleep,  I  sleep  for  my- 
self; if  I  work,  I  know  not  for  whom,"  is  a  man  whom 
all  hearts  despise — instinctively  and  inevitably  despise. 
It  matters  not  how  selfish  a  man  may  be,  there  is  some- 
thing in  him  which  tells  him  that  the  selfishness  he  sees 
in  others  is  contemptible. 

I  say,  then,  that  the  universal  judgment  is  right 
upon  this  point,  and  that  it  indorses  the  Christian  doc- 
trine that  selfishness  is  the  central  motive  power  of  sin. 
Now,  there  is  not  a  soul  in  the  world  that  admires  a 
selfish  nature.  So  far,  the  human  mind  is  unperverted ; 
and  no  healthy  mind  can  conceive  how  God  can  ad- 
mire such  a  nature.  If  I,  with  my  low  instincts  and 
perverted  tastes,  demand  that  a  man  shall  be,  or  be- 
come unselfish,  before  I  love  him,  how  can  I  conceive 
that  God  will  love  his  unchanged  character  ?  I  know 
that  He  cannot,  any  more  than  I  can,  and  I  am  prepared 
to  take  His  definition  of  the  sum  and  substance  of  re- 
ligion as  the  loving  of  God  supremely,  and  the  loving 
of  our  neighbor  as  ourselves.  "Wrapped  within  this 
word  unselfishness,  in  its  full  and  glorious  meaning,  lies 
the  central  principle  of  Christianity,  and  from  it  always 


302  Gold-Foil. 

unfolds  the  true  Christian  life.  When  God  sits  su- 
premely on  the  throne  of  a  human  heart — I  say  su- 
premely— then  selfishness  is  obliterated,  and  the  indi- 
vidual becomes  small  and  insignificant  in  the  presence 
of  the  great  brotherhood. 

I  suppose  it  may  be  stated  as  a  generally  admitted 
truth  that  mankind  are  not  popular.  In  other  words, 
the  race  is  not  held  in  very  high  estimation  by  itself. 
If  this  -were  not  so,  David's  declaration  that  all  men 
were  liars,  was  not  so  very  hasty  after  all ;  for,  if  there 
be  a  habit  everywhere  and  in  all  times  prevalent,  it  is 
the  habit  of  detraction.  Mankind  are  pretty  universally 
unpopular,  or  universally  malignant,  for  they  have  a 
very  bad  reputation  among  themselves.  I  think  there 
is  some  cause  for  all  this  hard  talk  about  men  which 
the  most  of  us  indulge  in,  and  that  though  many  un- 
charitable things  may  be  said,  the  unjust  things  are 
not  so  plenty.  I  think  that  this  selfishness  of  which  AVC 
have  been  talking  is  very  common — in  fact,  that  very 
few  of  us  can  lay  claim  to  any  great  degree  of  freedom 
from  it.  I  think  that  one  great  reason  why  we  do  not 
love  our  neighbors  better,  and  why  our  neighbors  do 
not  love  us  better,  is  that  they  and  we  are  not  alto- 
gether lovable.  I  think  that  the  great  bar  to  a  quicker 
and  higher  development  of  our  social  life  is  the  con- 
tempt we  feel  for  one  another's  selfishness.  If  all  my 
neighbors  were  free-hearted,  generous,  magnanimous, 


The  Secret  of  Popularity.  303 

unselfish  men,  I  should  love  them  all  as  I  may  hap- 
pen to  love  one  of  them  who  manifests  the  possession 
of  these  qualities ;  and  if  I  were  the  possessor  of  these 
qualities  which  I  most  admire  in  others,  I  should  bo 
sure  that  all  my  neighbors  who  know  me  would  love  me. 
Christianity,  starting  in  God's  fatherhood,  bids  us 
love  our  brotherhood.  If  we  love  Him,  we  shall  love 
Hia  children,  however  widely  straying  and  however  un- 
amiable,  simply  because  they  are  members  of  the  same 
family  with  ourselves.  We  are  nowhere  commanded  to 
love  the  devil  and  his  angels,  because  they  do  not  be- 
long to  our  family.  But  Christianity  does  not  demand 
that  we  shah1  admire  an  unlovely  man,  and  choose  him 
as  a  companion,  and  be  happy  in  his  society.  It  does 
not  demand  that  I  give  him  a  good  name,  while  I  seek 
to  do  him  good,  or  conspire  to  hold  him  popular  while 
I  strive  to  make  him  better.  It  does  not  bid  me 
smother  my  antipathies  so  far  as  to  ignore  his  selfish- 
ness, or  to  accept  him  as  a  grateful  object  of  my  affec- 
tions. I  can  love  him  so  far  as  to  wish  him  well,  to  la- 
bor for  his  welfare,  and  to  rejoice  in  his  improvement ; 
can  love  him  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  grateful  for  all 
the  good  he  receives  and  achieves ;  but,  so  long  as  self- 
ishness is  dominant  in  his  heart  and  life,  I  am  not  re- 
quired to  delight  in  him,  and  I  could  not  if  I  were. 
The  heart  leaps  to  receive  a  worthy  love,  and  will  not 
be  counselled. 


304  Gold-Foil. 

The  secret  of  the  world's  unloveliness  abides  in  its 
selfishness.  This  statement,  true  in  the  largest  sense, 
is  equally  true  in  its  most  limited  application.  The 
reason  why  men  are  not  popular  with  their  fellows,  is, 
that  their  fellows  fail  to  find  in  them  generous,  uncal- 
culating  impulses — open  hearts,  free  hands,  and  demon- 
strative good-will.  I  have  no  doubt  that  this  statement 
will  come  to  many  minds  either  as  a  new  and  strange 
revelation  of  truth,  or  as  a  proposition  which  their 
overweening  self-love  will  compel  them  to  quarrel  with. 
I  know  there  are  men  who  are  conscious  of  not  being 
generally  loved,  and  yet,  who,  having  strong  desires  to 
be  loved,  are  at  a  loss  to  account  for  their  own  unpop- 
ularity. If  they  accept  this  doctrine,  they  can  find  the 
way  to  win  what  they  desire.  If  they  reject  it,  as  a 
thing  which  wounds  their  self-love  and  offends  them, 
they  can  have  the  privilege  of  being  despised  while 
they  live.  God  has  made  selfishness  unlovable,  and 
shaped  the  universal  human  heart  to  despise  it,  and  He 
has  made  unselfishness  so  lovable  that  we  cannot  with- 
hold from  it  our  admiration. 

Here  comes  in  the  power  of  Christianity  as  the  trans- 
former of  character,  and  the  agent  of  those  changes  in 
the  human  heart  and  life,  which  make  men  not  only 
lovely  to  each  other,  but  to  God  Himself.  To  my  mind, 
there  is  no  stronger  evidence  of  the  truth  and  divine 
authenticity  of  Christianity,  than  the  direct  blow  with 


The  Secret  of  Popularity.  305 

which  it  hits  the  nail  of  human  selfishness  on  the  head. 
There  is  no  other  system  of  religion  which  does  this. 
There  is  no  curative  scheme  of  human  philosophy  which 
even  attempts  this  transformation.  "No  outside  plan  of 
reformation,  even  when  it  has  recognized  selfishness  as 
the  root  of  human  evil,  has  been  able  to  present  motives 
of  sufficient  power  to  work  the  necessary  regeneration. 
Under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  I  have  seen  selfish 
men  become  large-hearted  and  generous,  and  have  wit- 
nessed the  outgoing  of  their  lives  into  deeds  of  prac- 
tical good-will.  I  have  never  seen  this  change  wrought 
by  any  other  system  of  religion,  nor  by  any  form  of  hu- 
man philosophy.  All  other  systems  and  schemes  fail  to 
supply  the  vital  principle  of  a  true  life  and  an  admira- 
ble character.  They  are  systems  and  schemes  of  policy, 
and  plans  of  rewards  and  punishments,  built  upon  what 
is  good  in  humanity.  They  never  contemplate  the  sub- 
version of  the  central  principle  of  selfishness  in  the 
heart,  and  the  substitution  of  the  principle  of  benevo- 
lence. 

As  a  student  of  human  nature,  and  an  observer  of 
the  forces  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  I  am  compelled  to 
give  this  tribute  to  Christianity.  There  is  cither  in  it 
a  combination  of  powerful  motives,  rationally  to  be  ap- 
prehended and  voluntarily  to  be  adopted,  or  a  new 
principle  of  life,  which,  infused  into  the  heart,  diffuses 
itself  through  every  artery  and  vein,  and  changes  that 


306  Gold-Foil. 

life's  issues.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  which  I 
think  it  is.  I  only  say  that  there  has  never  been  found 
any  transforming  and  reforming  agency  equal  to  it ; 
and  that  I  believe  it  is  the  only  reliable  agency  in  the 
world's  transformation.  It  is  this  which  is  to  make  the 
world  altogether  lovely  like  its  Founder,  who  gave  His 
whole  life  to  us — gave  it  out  of  His  overflowing  love 
and  His  unselfish  nature.  As  "  self-love  is  a  mote  in 
every  man's  eye,"  there  is  no  man  who  does  not  need 
to  acquire  this  principle  of  the  Christian  life,  to  make 
him  more  loving  and  lovely.  The  heart  given  to  the 
Father,  the  hand  given  to  the  brother,  the  life  given  to 
both — truly  this  makes  a  man  admirable !  Can  we  re- 
sist loving  him  ? 

If  the  instinctive  judgments  of  men  coincide  with 
and  uphold  the  Christian  standard  of  loveliness,  so  do 
they  go  further,  and  reveal  to  us  what  the  character  of 
that  transformation  must  be  which  Christianity  works 
in  the  heart  and  life.  It  is  not  enough  that  a  deed  be 
beneficent  in  its  results,  to  secure  my  homage  and  ad- 
miration. I  must  see  that  the  heart  out  of  which  it 
came  was  a  generous  heart — that  that  heart  was  moved 
by  hearty  sympathy  and  uncalculating  benevolence.  I 
must  see  no  selfish  end  consulted,  no  reluctant  bending 
to  a  sense  of  obligation,  no  hard  yielding  to  a  convic- 
tion of  duty.  It  must  be  spontaneous — an  outburst  of 
noble,  generous  life.  This,  my  judgment  tells  me,  is  ad- 


The  Secret  of  Popularity.  307 

mirable,  and  only  this.  Now  Christianity  never  works 
its  perfect  work  in  the  heart  until  the  outgoings  of  that 
heart  are  of  this  character.  I  am  not  bound  to  admire, 
and  I  cannot  admire,  a  man  who,  professing  to  be 
moved  by  Christian  motives,  manifests  his  life  by  deeds 
of  benevolence  that  start  in  a  sense  of  Christian  duty 
and  Christian  obligation.  The  Christian  life  must  be  as 
uncalculating  and  as  spontaneous  as  the  natural  life,  be- 
fore its  expression  can  touch  my  admiration  by  its 
quality. 

The  true  heart  is  just  as  unerring  in  its  judgment 
of  what  constitutes  true  Christianity  as  true  humanity. 
•  Before  it  will  yield  its  tribute  of  admiration  and  aifec- 
tion  to  him  who  does  a  deed  of  good,  it  demands  that, 
in  either  case,  there  shall  be  no  selfish  consideration  of 
any  kind.  It  demands  that  Christianity  shall  be  as 
spontaneous  and  chivalrous  as  humanity,  and  it  knows 
that  when  it  is  not,  it  is  not  the  genuine  article.  Obli- 
gation implies  the  idea  of  justice.  The  fulfilment  of  it 
is  the  payment  of  a  debt.  Duty  is  a  thing  rationally 
apprehended  and  intellectually  measured.  Unselfish 
benevolence — natural,  or  acquired  by  the  possession  of 
the  Christian  life — blossoms  with  spontaneous  beauty, 
and  it  is  that  which  we  love  and  which  God  loves. 

So  the  secret  of  being  loved  is  in  being  lovely,  and 
the  secret  of  being  lovely  is  in  being  unselfish.  No  man 
liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  was  made  to  live  to  him- 


308  Gold-Foil. 

self.  He  was  born  with  a  desire  for  the  good-will  of 
others,  and  with  the  fact  (veiled,  perhaps,  in  many  in- 
stances) looking  him  in  the  face,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  get  it  without  the  relinquishment  of  selfishness  as 
the  ruling  motive  of  his  life.  The  truth  is,  that  the 
curse  of  selfishness  is  upon  pretty  much  all  our  life.  It 
blackens  and  defiles  eveiy  thing.  We  have  not  popu- 
lar men  enough  to  fill  decently  the  offices  of  govern- 
ment. They  are  so  few  that  they  are  not  only  the  sub- 
jects of  envy  to  many,  but  of  suspicion.  The  world  is 
so  mean  that,  unless  it  happen  to  know  an  unselfish  man 
personally,  it  hears  of  his  good  deeds  only  to  inquire 
what  and  how  much  he  expects  to  make  by  them.  Is 
not  this  unpopularity  of  the  human  race  with  itself 
rather  humiliating  ?  Knowing  the  fact  and  the  reason 
of  it,  let  us  try  to  inaugurate  a  better  condition  of 
things. 


XXVII. 

THE  LORD'S  BUSINESS. 

"  The  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children 
of  light" 

"  Easiness  is  business." 

"  Money  is  wise ;  It  knows  its  own  way." 

I  SUPPOSE  my  minister— the  Rev.  Theodore  Dunn 
— to  be  one  of  the  very  best  in  New  England. 
If  there  is  any  thing  that  I  object  to  hi  him,  it  is  his 
uncomfortable  faithfulness.  But  I  have  always  taken 
his  pointed  discourses  and  his  still  more  pointed  per- 
sonal exhortations  in  good  part,  as  I  know  him  to  bo 
the  best  friend  I  have,  and  an  honest  and  thoroughly 
enthusiastic  worker  in  his  holy  calling.  A  few  weeks 
ago  I  received  a  note  from  him,  requesting  me  to  call 
at  his  study  for  private  conversation  upon  an  important 
topic.  I  was  promptly  at  his  door  at  the  time  ap 


310  Gold-Foil. 

pointed,  and  spent  a  very  pleasant  evening  with  him. 
The  special  subject  upon  his  mind  was  the  importance 
of  conducting  all  business  enterprises  upon  Christian 
principles.  I  think  he  must  have  heard  something  of 
my  connection  with  a  fancy  scheme  which  it  is  not 
necessary  for  me  to  mention  here ;  but  he  had  good 
breeding,  and  said  nothing  about  it.  I  could  do  nothing, 
of  course,  but  accede  to  his  excellent  propositions,  and 
bow  to  his  exhortations.  I  may  say,  before  going 
further,  that  he  was  entirely  in  the  right,  and  that  I 
hope  his  lesson  has  done  me  good. 

After  returning  home,  I  thought  the  matter  over. 
This  was  the  seventh  time  he  had  sent  for  me,  for  the 
purpose  of  lecturing  me.  I  had  had  some  thoughts  on 
the  subject  of  religion  which  I  had  never  expressed  to 
him,  and  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  turn  the  tables ;  I  will 
send  for  the  minister."  I  gave  no  time  for  second 
thoughts,  and  dispatched  a  note  on  the  instant,  request- 
ing him  to  call  at  my  office  "  for  private  conversation 
on  the  subject  of  religion,"  on  the  following  evening. 
I  was  in  my  office  at  the  time  appointed,  and  my  minis- 
ter came  in  sight  as  the  clock  struck  seven.  He  greeted 
me  cordially,  but  was  evidently  a  little  puzzled.  He 
took  the  seat  proffered  him,  threw  open  his  overcoat, 
and  in  certain  commonplace  inquiries,  indicated  his 
wish  that  I  should  commence  the  conversation.  I  felt 
a  little  awkwardly  in  the  position  into  which  I  had 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  311 

voluntarily  thrown  myself;  but,  determined  to  make 
the  best  of  it,  I  assumed  the  censor  and  adviser,  and 
opened. 

44  Mr.  Dunn,"  said  I,  "  you  invited  me  to  your  house 
to  talk  to  me,  in  your  sacred  capacity,  of  the  import- 
ance of  conducting  business  enterprises  on  Christian 
principles.  I  have  invited  you  here  to-night  to  talk  to 
you  on  the  importance  of  conducting  the  Christian  en- 
terprise on  business  principles." 

Mr.  Dunn  smiled  good-naturedly,  and  bade  me 
proceed. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  I,  "  I  am  a  business  man,  and  have 
had,  in  a  somewhat  active  life,  considerable  knowledge 
of  great  enterprises ;  but  I  consider  the  Christian  en- 
terprise as  the  largest  operation  ever  undertaken  by 
human  hands.  It  contemplates  nothing  less  than  the 
peaceful  subjugation  of  a  rebellious  world  to  the  for- 
saken rule  of  heaven — the  restoration  of  a  degenerate 
race  to  purity  and  happiness." 

44  But  it  is  not  man's  enterprise,"  said  Mr.  Dunn. 

44  Hear  me  through,  sir.  Moral  forces,  of  varied 
nature  and  operation,  and  supernatural  influences,  as 
the  most  of  us  believe,  enter  into  the  prosecution  of 
this  enterprise ;  but  beyond  these  I  recognize  an  ele- 
ment of  business — an  element  inherent  in  every  tiling 
which  can  legitimately  be  called  an  enterprise.  An 
enterprise  in  any  sense  is  a  business  enterprise  in  some 


312  Gold-Foil. 

sense,  because  it  involves  management  and  machinery. 
Christianity  has  its  parish,  its  society,  its  officers  and 
organizations  of  various  sorts,  its  missionary  associa- 
tions, and  its  educational  institutions.  Is  it  not 
so?" 

Mr.  Dunn  simply  bowed,  and  said,  "  Go  on." 

"  To  the  management  of  the  business  department 
of  the  Christian  enterprise  are  called  such  men  as  have 
the  most  practical  business  tact — men  who  add  to  gen- 
eral intelligence,  social  position,  piety,  and  zeal,  that 
acquaintance  with  the  men  of  the  world,  and  that 
familiarity  with  the  forms,  details,  and  maxims  of  the 
world's  business,  which  will  enable  them  prudently  and 
efficiently  to  perform  their  duties.  This  is  a  thing  of 
men  and  money,  and  when  money  is  short,  and  men 
are  scarce,  you  will  admit  that  management  becomes  a 
thing  of  great  importance." 

.  I  saw  that  my  visitor  was  becoming  interested.  He 
laid  off  his  overcoat  entirely,  and  drew  his  chair  nearer 
to  me. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  resuming,  "  we  must  settle,  at  start- 
ing, exactly  what  the  Christian  enterprise  is.  Is  it 
building  up  our  church  ?  " 

"  O  no ! "  replied  Mr.  Dunn,  "  certainly  not." 

"  Is  it  building  up  our  sect  ?  " 

"  Not  by  any  means." 

"  "Well,  suppose  you  teh1  me,  in  a  few  words,  what 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  313 

it  is,"  I  suggested,  for  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  bur- 
den with  him,  and  getting  my  prdmises. 

"  I  should  say,"  replied  my  minister,  "  to  be  con- 
cise, that  the  Christian  enterprise  is  the  enterprise  of 
converting  the  world  to  Christ." 

"  A  good  answer,"  I  responded.  "  I  accept  your 
definition,  for  it  is  my  own  ;  and  I  knew  you  could  give 
no  other.  Now,  I  am  not  going  into  theology  at  all. 
It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  a  remarkable  personage  appeared,  who  was 
allied  alike  or  in  a  degree  to  divinity  and  humanity, 
and  who  declared  himself  to  be  the  Saviour  of  the 
human  race.  I  will  not  differ  with  you,  or  with  any- 
body else,  as  to  how  his  salvation  was  to  be  conferred. 
I  know  that  he  possessed  a  supernal  elevation  of  charac- 
ter, that  he  lived  a  spotless  life,  that  he  gave  utterance 
to  the  noblest  precepts  and  principles,  that  he  was 
crucified  by  cruel  men,  and  that  he  rose  again.  Ilis 
great  mission,  announced  beneath  the  conscious  pulses 
of  Judea's  stars,  was  that  of  the  bearer  of  good-will  to 
all  mankind.  The  commission  which  he  gave  to  his 
disciples  was,  *  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the 
Gospel  to  every  creature.'  Ho  began  the  enterprise, 
and  intrusted  its  completion  to  the  hands  of  his  dis- 
ciples. This  is  the  enterprise  which  they  have  under- 
taken ;  the  enterprise  which  you,  Mr.  Dunn,  have  de- 
fined. As  I  look  at  it,  it  is  a  grand,  overruling,  all- 
14 


314  Gold-Foil. 

subordinating  scheme.  If  its  merits  are  equal  to  its 
pretensions,  there  is  not,  under  the  whole  heaven,  any 
great  work  which  should  not  be  subordinate  to  this." 

I  had  grown  a  little  warm  with  my  talk,  and  my 
minister  smiled  in  his  own  pleasant  way,  and  remarked 
that  he  thought  I  had  mistaken  my  profession.  I  bade 
him  wait  until  the  conclusion  before  committing  him- 
self on  that  point.  I  then  resumed. 

"  In  examining  the  operations  of  the  propagators  of 
Christianity,  I  find  that  money  stands  as  the  basis  of 
nearly  all  of  them.  Money  builds  the  church,  hires  the 
minister,  sends  the  missionary,  prints  the  Bible,  drops 
the  tract,  supports  the  colporteur,  and  furnishes  the 
life-blood  of  all  the  Christian  charities.  Without  money 
comparatively  nothing  can  be  done,  and  co-ordinately 
essential  are  men ;  for  without  ministers,  and  mission- 
aries, and  colporteurs,  and  printers,  money,  devoted  to 
this  enterprise,  would  be  fruitless.  The  question  is, 
therefore,  as  to  how  this  money  and  these  men  are 
used  ?  Can  you  think  of  an  instance,  Mr.  Dunn,  in 
which  money  has  been  misused  ?  " 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  he  replied,  "of  the  little 
town  of  Montford,  up  here,  which  has  four  church  edi- 
fices and  not  a  single  minister." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  there  is  Plum  Orchard,  just 
beyond  Montford,  which  contains  three  ambitious- 
looking  church  edifices  with  a  poor  minister  in  each — 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  315 

very  poor,  I  may  say,  in  more  than  one  sense.  In 
Montford,  sectarian  zeal  has  actually  exhausted  all  of  the 
available  means  of  Christian  effort,  and,  so  far  as  I  can 
learn,  the  town  has  not  for  years  been  the  scene  of  the 
slightest  Christian  progress.  There  are  four  flocks 
there  without  a  shepherd.  Plum  Orchard  contains 
twelve  hundred  inhabitants.  Half  of  these  do  not  at- 
tend church  at  all,  partly  because  they  have  become 
disgusted  with  the  sectarian  strifes  that  have  prevailed 
among  the  churches,  but  mostly  because  the  preachers 
(poor  men !)  have  no  power  over  them.  Of  the  re- 
maining half,  a  moiety  attend  church  in  a  thriving 
manufacturing  village  two  miles  distant,  and  three 
hundred  are  left  to  fight  out  the  bootless  battle,  which 
keeps  three  inefficient  leaders  in  commission,  and  docs 
good  to  no  one.  Only  the  first  case  is  an  extreme  one 
Similar  cases  are  found  everywhere.  Now,  Mr.  Dunn, 
do  you  blame  an  unbelieving  business  world  for  laugh- 
ing and  scoffing  at  a  spectacle  like  this  ?  " 

"  Very  bad,  very  bad !  "  sighed  my  minister  with  a 
sad  face  and  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Now,  sir,"  I  resumed, "  I  am  not  going  to  sny  that 
this  is  not  right,  for  I  pretend  to  hold  nothing  deeper 
than  a  business  view  of  it.  I  am  not  going  to  say  that 
it  is  not  just  as  the  Head  of  the  church  would  have  it ; 
but  I  must  say,  very  decidedly,  that,  viewed  in  its 
business  aspect,  it  is  the  most  foolish,  the  most  incxcu- 


316  Gold-Foil. 

sable,  the  most  preposterous  profligacy.  The  whole 
world  cannot  illustrate  such  another  instance  of  the 
squandering  of  precious  means  by  organized  bands  of 
sane  business  men.  I  say  this  in  view  of  the  fact  which, 
in  courtesy,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  that  it  is  all  done 
conscientiously,  and  for  the  simple  purpose  of  pushing 
forward,  in  the  most  efficient  manner,  the  Christian 
enterprise." 

"  We  must  have  charity,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dunn,  in  a 
wounded  tone. 

"  Charity  !  "  I  responded,  somewhat  warmly,  for  I 
saw  that  he  had  not  fully  comprehended  my  meaning ; 
"  what  has  charity  to  do  with  it  ?  I  have  impugned  no 
man's  motives.  I  am  simply  criticising  a  business  ope- 
ration. Let  me  illustrate.  Suppose  that  I  have  a 
business  which  extends  throughout  this  State.  I  have 
an  article  to  dispose  of  which  should  be  in  the  hands  of 
every  man  within  its  limits.  I  cannot  visit  every  town 
and  every  man  myself;  therefore  I  must  avail  myself 
of  a  system  of  offices  and  agencies.  Proper  agents 
being  scarce,  it  becomes  necessary  for  me  to  economize. 
What,  therefore,  shall  be  my  policy  ?  Evidently  so  to 
apportion  my  offices  and  agents  as  to  bring  the  com- 
modity I  have  to  dispose  of  within  the  reach  of  all,  if 
possible — of  the  largest  possible  number,  at  least.  I 
hold  my  agents  strictly  responsible  to  me  for  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  do  my  work.  I  require  of  them  all 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  317 

to  hold  up  their  hands  and  swear  to  do  it  faithfully  and 
well;  not  striving  for  precedence  or  monopoly,  not 
seeking  their  own  aggrandizement,  but  laboring  di- 
rectly to  forward  my  interests  and  advance  my  enter- 
prise. This  is  a  plain  business  operation ;  and,  strip- 
ping the  Christian  enterprise  of  every  thing  foreign  to 
its  business  element,  I  place  it  by  the  side  of  that  enter- 
prise as  a  just  standard  by  which  to  judge  it.  Jesus 
Christ  has  something  to  dispose  of  to  every  individual 
of  the  human  race.  In  order  to  bring  it  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  every  individual,  he  has  established  a  system  of 
offices  and  agencies,  and  committed  the  work  of  ex- 
tending them  over  the  world  to  his  people.  He  re- 
quires of  every  agent  that  he  shall  devote  himself,  with 
a  single  purpose,  to  the  forwarding  of  his  great  enter- 
prise— the  conversion  of  the  world.  But  his  agencies, 
after  the  lapse  of  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years, 
have  been  established  only  upon  a  small  portion  of  the 
territory,  and  difficulties  seem  to  clog  the  path  of  their 
further  progress.  "We  find  his  followers,  all  of  whom 
profess  a  supreme  wish  to  forward  his  enterprise,  dis- 
agreeing upon  some  of  the  minor  and  non-essential  de- 
tails of  the  business,  dividing  themselves,  and  using  up 
the  money  which  he  has  committed  to  them  in  building 
a  multitude  of  splendid  and  often  rival  offices,  and  re- 
taining in  each  an  agent,  while  a  large  portion  of  the 
field  is  entirely  unprovided  for.  Shut  up  within  tho 


318  Gold-Foil. 

walls  of  a  small  partisanship,  they  seem  to  have  lost 
sight  of  the  great  enterprise  to  which  they  have  com- 
mitted themselves  ;  or,  if  they  sometimes  think  of  it,  it 
is  with  a  piteous  lamentation  over  the  hinderance  of  a 
cause  in  the  way  of  which  they  have  placed  every  pos- 
sible business  obstruction." 

"We  must  have  charity,"  reiterated  Mr.  Dunn, 
moving  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  Now,  my  good  sir,"  I  rejoined,  "  as  you  are  de- 
termined to  make  me  a  censor  of  motives,  rather  than 
a  critic  of  policy,  I.  will  not  have  the  name  without  the 
game — you  know  the  old  saying.  So,  when  I  say  that 
the  business  part  of  the  Christian  enterprise  is  badly 
managed,  I  will  say  that,  if  a  business  of  mine  were 
managed  thus,  I  should  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
my  agents  care  more  for  themselves  than  they  do  for 
my  business." 

"  I  saw  where  you  were  coming,"  replied  Mr.  Dunn, 
with  his  kind  smile,  for  he  was  determined  to  make  a 
sort  of  enemy  of  me  before  he  could  be  complacent. 

"Well,  sir,  you  brought  me  here,"  I  replied. 
"  Now  let  me  go  on.  It  is  a  confessed  and  patent  fact 
that  money  is  short  and  men  are  scarce.  The  call  is 
uttered  and  echoed  in  every  quarter  of  the  world  for 
more  money  and  more  men ;  but  is  it  too  much  to  say 
that  enough  of  both  have  been  squandered  in  the  busi- 
ness management  of  the  Christian  enterprise  to  have 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  319 


carried  Christianity  into  every  household  ?  The  money 
expended  in  church  edifices,  and  inefficient  govern- 
mental church  establishments,  and  bootless  and  worse 
than  bootless  controversies,  and  the  upbuilding  of  rival 
sects,  would  have  crowned  every  hill  upon  God's  foot- 
stool with  a  church  edifice,  and  placed  a  Bible  in  every 
human  hand.  Further  than  this :  if  the  men  now  com- 
missioned to  preach  the  gospel  were  properly  ap- 
portioned to  the  world's  population,  millions  Avould 
enjoy  their  ministrations  who  never  heard  the  name 
of  Jesus  Christ  pronounced,  and  never  will.  The 
towns  in  Christendom  which  feebly  support,  or 
thoroughly  starve,  two,  three,  or  four  ministers,  when 
one  is  entirely  adequate  for  them,  are  almost  num- 
berless." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dunn,  "  I  believe  that  statement 
is  true.  I  suppose  I  could  preach  to  this  whole  town 
in  which  we  live,  as  well  as  to  my  limited  congre- 
gation." 

"  Precisely,  Mr.  Dunn.  Now  do  you  suppose  the 
business  world  around  us  here  can  look  on  and  see 
how  we  manage,  and  not  see  the  thrifllessness  and  in- 
consistency of  the  whole  thing  ?  And  if  this  business 
world  should  happen  to  conclude  that  men  who  pro- 
fess what  we  do,  and  manage  as  we  do,  are  not  in 
earnest,  would  it  compromise  its  reason  and  its  com- 
mon sense  by  it  ?  " 


320  Gold-Foil. 

"  But  I  thought  you  to  be  a  lover  of  art,  and  always 
glad  to  see  fine  church  architecture,"  responded  Mr. 
Dunn,  endeavoring  to  shift  the  burden. 

"  You  are  entirely  correct — I  wish  the  world  were 
full  of  it ;  but  I  am  talking  now  as  a  business  man.  I 
understand  that  a  church  is  built  with  a  supreme  desire 
for  the  service  of  Christianity — as  something  which  is 
to  tell  directly  upon  the  Christian  enterprise.  It  is  a 
simple  question  of  dollars  and  cents.  Do  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  expended  upon  a  church  edifice,  half 
of  which  is  devoted  simply  to  ornamental  art,  exert 
over  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  power  toward  the  con- 
version of  the  world  ? — for  we  must  always  come  back 
to  this  definition  of  the  great  enterprise.  This  is  what 
churches  are  built  for,  as  I  understand  it ;  and  I  ask 
whether,  in  this  case,  fifty  thousand  dollars  are  not  ab- 
solutely lost  to  the  Christian  enterprise  ?  Is  there  not 
within  the  bounds  of  Christendom  enough  of  bricks, 
and  mortar,  and  mouldy  marble,  and  costly  spires,  and 
flaming  oriels,  and  gorgeous  drapery,  and  luxurious 
upholstery,  and  chiming  bells,  and  deftly-chiselled  stone, 
all  dedicated  nominally  to  the  service  of  Heaven,  to 
enrich  the  whole  world  with  Christian  light,  were  it 
economically  dispensed  ?  " 

"There  is  undoubtedly  something  in  what  you 
have  said,"  replied  my  minister,  "but  I  think  not 
so  much  as  you  claim.  And  now,  as  you  are  so  apt 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  321 

at  tearing  down,  suppose  yon  try  your  hand  at  build- 
ing up." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  this  is  needful,  for  the  remedy 
is  indicated  by  the  disease  ;  but  if  you  wish  it,  I  will 
do  it  willingly.  As  a  business  man,  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  judge  of  the  relative  importance  of  main- 
taining a  certain  truth  or  tenet,  acknowledged  to  be 
non-essential,  and  the  saving  of  a  human  soul.  That  is 
for  you  to  do.  I  only  take  the  enterprise  in  gross ; 
and  I  say  to  you,  as  one  of  the  managers  of  the  Chris- 
tian enterprise,  that  if  you  are  supremely  devoted  to 
that  enterprise,  if  the  great  and  only  end  you  seek  be 
to  <5ompass  the  salvation  of  the  world,  then  you  will 
spend  your  money  and  apportion  your  means  in  such  a 
way  that  the  enterprise  shall  feel  their  whole  power. 
Here,  for  instance,  in  this  town,  we  have  four  religious 
societies.  These  happen  to  be  Episcopal,  Congrega- 
tional, Methodist,  and  Baptist.  All  these  people  ex- 
pect to  meet  each  other  in  heaven.  They  call  them- 
selves '  Evangelical  Christians,'  thus  acknowledging 
that  non-essential  differences  of  belief  keep  them  from 
thorough  fraternization.  These  men  are  made  a  com- 
mon Christian  brotherhood  by  the  common  reception 
of  what  they  deem  to  be  the  essential  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity. One  large  church  and  one  good  pastor,  like 
you,  Mr.  Dunn,  would  be  sufficient  for  all  these  sects. 
Now,  as  they  can  agree  upon  the  essential  truths  of 
14* 


322  Gold-Foil. 

Christianity,  why  may  they  not  do  so  formally,  and 
leave  to  every  man  that  Christian  liberty  of  opinion 
upon  the  non-essentials  which  belongs  to  him,  and 
which  by  right  of  public  charter  or  private  choice  he 
will  exercise  under  all  circumstances.  From  my  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  I  might  go  further,  and  say  that 
such  an  exhibition  of  united  devotion  to  a  great  cause 
as  this  would  be,  and  such  a  demonstration  as  it  would 
furnish  of  the  real,  fraternal  spirit  of  Christianity,  would 
accomph'sh  more  for  the  Christian  enterprise  than  the 
separate  labors  of  the  four  sects  could  hope  to  accom- 
ph'sh in  a  quarter  of  a  century." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  my  minister,  warmly,  and  with 
tears  brimming  his  eyes,  "  this  is  a  beautiful  dream  of 
yours.  I  say  it  from  my  heart,  I  would  gladly  see  it 
realized ;  but  there  are  so  many  prejudices  to  over- 
come— there  are  such  different  modes  of  thought  and 
worship — I  do  not  see  how  we  could  come  harmoni- 
ously together." 

"  Ah !  but,  Mr.  Dunn,  I  have  only  spoken  on  the 
supposition  that  all  prejudices  had  been  subordinated 
— all  partisan  feelings  and  non-essential  opinions — to 
the  Christian  enterprise.  I  have  only  suggested  such 
a  management  of  the  Lord's  business  as  I  should  insist 
upon  if  it  were  mine  ;  and  I  repeat  what  I  have  said, 
in  effect,  before,  that  if,  in  the  enterprise,  which  I  had 
supposed  my  own,  I  should  find  three  or  four  offices  in 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  323 

opposition  to  each  other,  in  any  form,  carried  on  by  as 
many  agents,  each  claiming  the  preference,  with  no  es- 
sential reason  for  difference,  I  should  conclude  that 
they  cared  more  for  themselves  and  their  opinions 
than  they  did  for  my  business.  In  the  method  of  re- 
form which  I  have  suggested,  I  would  liberate  and 
render  available  a  vast  amount  of  idle  capital,  and  I 
should  find  upon  my  hands  a  large  corps  of  agents  to 
be  sent  into  such  portions  of  the  field  as  might  be  un 
supplied.  I  would  also  divert  the  large  annual  outlay 
which  it  has  cost  to  support  these  superfluous  institu- 
tions into  the  maintenance  of  the  new  efforts  incident 
to  their  transplantation." 

"  This  looks  rational,  however  impracticable  it  may 
be,"  responded  Mr.  Dunn,  half  doubtfully.  "  But  is 
this  your  whole  plan  ?  " 

"Hardly  the  shell  of  it,  Mr.  Dunn.  Are  you 
weary  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no  ! "  replied  my  minister,  pressing  my 
hand.  "  I  was  only  going  to  remark,  that  there  would 
still  be  men  wanting." 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied.  "  I  thank  you  for  leading 
me  to  this  point.  Every  year  the  religious  press  breathes 
out  the  stereotyped  lamentation  that  only  a  few  young 
men,  comparatively  with  the  wants  of  the  world,  are 
graduated  at  the  theological  seminaries.  While  young 
men  by  tens  of  thousands  throng  every  avenue  of  trade, 


324  Gold-Foil. 

and  press  into  every  alley  that  leads  to  an  avenue,  and 
while  the  professions  of  law  and  medicine  are  crowded 
with  the  ambitious  and  the  talented,  few  adopt  the  no- 
blest calling  of  all,  and  the  Christian  enterprise  lags  for 
lack  of  public  laborers.  Now  I  have  yet  to  see  the 
first  branch  of  business  in  this  country,  or  in  any  coun- 
try, that  cannot  command  as  many  men  as  it  will  pay 
for.  I  tell  you  that  for  money  I  can  obtain  men  for 
any  service  under  heaven — any  service  that  I  would 
engage  in — good,  Christian  men,  too.  Money  will 
send  men  into  the  eternal  ice  of  the  poles,  under  the 
fires  of  the  equator,  across  snow-crowned  mountains, 
and  among  savage  beasts  and  savage  men.  What,  by 
the  way,  is  the  amount  of  your  salary,  Mr.  Dunn  ?  " 

"  Eight  hundred  dollars  a  year." 

"  That  is  more  than  any  other  minister  in  this  town 
enjoys,  and  it  is  just  half  the  sum  I  pay  my  head-clerk. 
Now,  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  what  is  expected  of  a 
minister." 

I  had  touched  the  right  chord,  and  my  minister 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  gave  it  to  me,  "with  an  unc- 
tion." 

"  It  is  required  of  a  minister,"  said  he,  "  that  he 
shall  possess  a  first-class  mind ;  that  he  shall  spend  ten 
of  the  best  years  of  his  life  in  that  crucifixion  of  the 
flesh  which  efficient  study  necessitates ;  that,  if  poor, 
he  shall  carry  into  his  field  of  labor  a  load  of  debt 


The  Lord's  Bufincfs.  325 

which  will  gall  his  shoulders  for  years ;  that  he  shall 
withhold  himself  from  all  other  callings  and  all  side 
schemes  and  sources  of  profit ;  that  he  shall  write  from 
two  to  three  sermons  each  week,  and  preach  them ; 
that  between  Sabbath  and  Sabbath  he  shall  attend  two 
or  three  evening  meetings ;  that  he  shall  visit  every 
family  in  his  parish  once  in  six  months ;  that  he  shall 
take  the  laboring  oar  in  all  public  chanties ;  that  he 
shall  call  upon  the  sick,  and  look  after  strangers,  and 
officiate  at  funerals,  and  serve  as  a  member  of  the 
school  committee,  and  deliver  one  or  two  lectures  be- 
fore the  village  lyceum  every  season,  and  visit  the  sew- 
ing-circle, through  the  whiter — and — " 

"  And  all,"  I  continued,  rising  also  to  my  feet,  for 
a  sense  of  injustice  was  getting  the  better  of  me,  "and 
all  for  a  sum  at  which  a  modern  railroad  conductor 
would  snap  his  fingers  in  contempt." 

But  Mr.  Dunn  was  at  home  in  this  matter,  and  I  was 
very  glad  to  let  him  talk  for  me. 

"  I  will  not  amend  your  conclusion  of  my  sentence," 
said  my  minister,  smiling,  "  though  it  is  not  exactly  in 
my  style.  I  will  say,  however,  that  a  minister's  salary 
is  usually  adjusted  to  the  lowest  current  cost  of  living. 
In  this  way,  he  is  allowed  to  lay  up  nothing  for  paying 
off  his  debts,  furnishing  his  house,  stocking  and  replen- 
ishing his  library,  educating  his  children,  and  surround- 
ing himself  with  the  convenient  and  graceful  externals 


326  Gold-Foil. 

of  cultivated  life.  The  pastor,  enfeebled  as  he  is  by 
care  and  the  preparatory  studies  through  which  he  has 
passed,  is  required  to  be  the  hardest  drudge  in  his 
paiish.  He  is  accepted  as  a  laborer  in  the  most  im- 
portant calling  that  honors  our  poor  humanity,  he  is 
loaded  with  responsibilities  which  call  for  more  than 
human  strength  for  their  support,  yet  his  scanty  stipend 
is  doled  out  to  him  more  as  if  he  were  a  dirty  beggar, 
than  a  messenger  from  heaven,  and  the  almoner  of  its 
choicest  gifts." 

Thus  having  honestly  poured  out  his  heart  and  his 
convictions,  my  minister  sat  down.  I  resumed  my  seat 
also,  and,  as  I  did  so,  I  said,  "  Mr.  Dunn,  is  it  to  be 
wondered  at  that  so  few  men  can  be  found  who  are 
willing  to  enter  upon  a  life  like  this  ?  " 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  there  are  higher  considerations," 
said  he,  hastily  recalling  himself.  "  I  declare  it  to  be 
the  highest  evidence  I  have  known  of  the  benignly  con- 
straining power  of  Christianity,  that  so  many  men  can 
be  found  who  are  willing  to  leave  the  brilliant  paths — 
open  t»  all — of  honor,  wealth,  and  fame — to  leave  them 
with  the  dew  of  youth  upon  their  brows,  and  their 
hearts  bounding  with  the  strong  pulses  of  young  man- 
hood, and  take  this  dusty  road,  parched  with  penury, 
thick  strewn  with  the  thorns  of  ingratitude,  and 
thronged  with  humiliations,  from  the  valley  where  it 
diverges  from  the  world's  great  track,  to  the  heaven- 


The  Lord's  Bufmcfs.  327 

touched  hill  where  the  weary  feet  strike  upon  the 
grateful,  golden  pavement." 

"  You  are  right,  entirely  right,"  I  responded ;  "  and 
now  I  wish  to  say  to  you  that  I  consider  the  Church, 
in  its  business  capacity,  an  unjust  and  grinding  master 
towards  those  whom  it  has  called  into  its  service.    Its 
noble  colporteurs  are  not  paid  as  well  as  hod-carriers, 
and  you  have  told  me  feelingly  how  well  its  pastors  are 
paid.    And  I  say  that,  in  a  business  point  of  view,  the 
lamentation  over  the  small  supply  of  pastors  in  prepara- 
tion is  childish  and  contemptible,  so  long  as  the  com- 
monest business  principles  are  disregarded  in  the  en- 
deavor to  secure  a  larger  supply.    You  speak  of  higher 
considerations.    I  grant  that  there  are  such  considera- 
tions, for  I  have  evidence  of  them  in  the  fact  that  there 
are  any  ministers  at  all.    But  what  have  a  church  and 
religious  society  to  do  with  those  considerations  in  hir- 
ing a  minister  ?    If  they  find  their  candidate  an  edu- 
cated, sound,  spirited,  honest,  and  devoted  man,  they 
accept  him,  and  enter  into  a  business  relation  with  him. 
They  are  a  laboring,  producing,  trading  congregation, 
with  all  the  avenues  of  wealth  opened  to  them.    They 
have  no  right  to  ask  him  to  give  them  one  cent.    In  the 
salary  they  give  him,  it  is  their  duty  to  yield  him  a  full 
share  in  their  prosperity.  Any  thing  less  than  this  makes 
him  a  menial,  and  docs  him  injustice.     Now  it  may  be 
that  ministers  do  not  care  about  money,  but  I  have  no- 


328  Gold-Foil. 

ticed  that  our  few  well-paid  pulpits  never  go  begging 
for  ministers.  They  are  all  undoubtedly  exercised  by 
other  considerations,  but  as  the  Christian  enterprise  is 
a  common  one,  the  Church  has  no  more  right  to  require 
them  to  devote  to  it  their  life  for  higher  considerations 
than  money,  than  they  have  to  demand  money  for 
higher  considerations  than  their  services.  It  is  an  even 
thing." 

"  I  recognize  the  intrinsic  justice  of  your  position," 
responded  my  minister,  after  a  pause,  "  but  I  am  afraid 
money  enough  could  not  be  found  to  conduct  the 
Christian  enterprise  in  this  manner." 

"  But  money  enough  is  found  to  manage  it  badly," 
I  replied,  "and  I  believe  there  is  money  enough  to 
manage  it  well.  I  have  yet  to  find  the  first  worldly  en- 
terprise that  promised  safety  for  investments  that  did 
not  command  all  the  money  necessary  for  its  consum- 
mation. Wherever  the  angels  of  promise  and  progress 
lead,  money  follows  and  does  their  bidding.  It  builds 
magnificent  cities,  and  bridges  rivers,  and  excavates 
canals,  and  constructs  railroads,  and  levels  mountains, 
and  equips  navies,  and  furnishes  countless  hosts  with 
the  enginery  of  war.  In  its  ready  and  prolific  power, 
it  often  furnishes  facilities  for  business  before  business 
demands  them.  The  Christian  world  is  flooded  with 
wealth.  There  is  money  enough  and  to  spare,  and  I 
very  decidedly  declare,  that  if,  in  the  subordinate  en- 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  329 

terprises  of  Christian  life,  there  is  no  lack  of  money, 
there  can  be  none  in  the  Christian  enterprise  itself, 
provided,  of  course,  that  Christians  are  sincere  in 
their  expressions  of  supreme  devotion  to  that  enter- 
prise." 

"A  new  test  of  piety,"  interpolated  my  min- 
ister. 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  I  cannot  help  it ;  because,  as  a 
business  man,  I  know  perfectly  well  that  any  enterprise 
in  which  large  bodies  of  men  feel  a  great  and  absorbing 
interest,  can  command  all  the  money  which  it  requires. 
And  now,  when  the  business  world  sees  the  Christian 
world  begging  for  money  with  which  to  forward  its 
great  enterprise,  and  counting  its  receipts  by  slowly  ac- 
cumulating thousands,  what  must  be  the  impression  of 
that  business  world  in  regard  to  the  honesty  and  earn- 
estness of  that  Christian  world  ?  Can  it  resist  the 
quick  conclusions  of  its  acutely  educated  judgment  ? 
When  it  sees  a  body  of  men  lauding  a  scheme  or  enter- 
prise in  which  they  will  make  no  deeper  investment 
than  they  feel  obliged  to  make  for  decency's  sake,  it 
calls  it  contemptuously  *  a  bogus  scheme.'  " 

"  You  have  a  grain  of  truth  in  a  bundle  of  sophis- 
try, here,"  replied  Mr.  Dunn.  "  It  is  true,  and  it  is 
not  true.  The  comparison  which  you  institute  between 
investments  in  human  enterprises  and  the  Christian  en- 
terprise is  an  illegitimate  one." 


330  Gold-Foil. 

"I  see  where  the  trouble  is,"  I  rejoined.  "The 
result  of  the  comparison  is  the  wholesale  conviction  of 
the  Church  of  the  sin  of  hypocrisy ;  but  I  will  relieve 
that  of  its  point  by  the  charitable  admission  that  these 
men  are  laboring  under  a  hallucination.  I  believe  they 
have  entire  consciousness  of  sincerity.  Still,  from  my 
point  of  view,  I  can  only  decide  as  I  have  decided.  As 
a  business  man,  I  know  that  the  Christian  world  can 
command  any  amount  of  money  it  may  be  desirable  to 
command  for  the  prosecution  of  the  Christian  enter- 
prise ;  and  I  can  only  conclude  that,  if  it  fail  to  do  it, 
it  is  because  it  has  little  confidence  or  little  interest  in 
it." 

"  But  do  you  comprehend  the  severity  of  this  judg- 
ment ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Dunn,  solemnly. 

"  I  do,  sir,  but  I  am  not  responsible  for  it.  I  cannot 
help  it.  You  come  to  business  men  for  money.  Why 
should  we  help  you  to  a  penny,  when  you  will  not  in- 
vest in  your  schemes  yourselves  ?  You  remember  how 
it  was  when  our  bank  was  chartered.  "We  opened  the 
subscription-books,  and  the  stock  was  all  taken  in  two 
hours.  We  believed  in  our  own  scheme ;  but  you  pro- 
fess to  regard  religion  as  something  better  than  money ; 
you  even  admit  that  pastors  should  labor  for  higher 
considerations  than  money ;  and  yet,  when  a  subscrip- 
tion-book is  opened  for  the  advancement  of  some  special 
Interest  of  the  Christian  enterprise,  Christians  almost 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  331 

universally  play  shy  of  it,  and  oblige  it  to  go  painfully 
and  pitifully  begging  for  months." 

As  I  concluded,  my  minister  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  I 
feared  he  was  becoming  tired  of  the  interview,  and  ex- 
pressed the  fear  to  him.  He  begged  me  to  go  on,  how- 
ever, and  declared  that  his  interest  in  my  conversation 
had  deepened  from  the  first,  although  he  felt  sick  and 
sad  with  the  reflections  awakened  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  discussion. 

"  We  will  leave  the  home  field,  then,"  I  resumed, 
"  and  change  the  current.  I  find  that,  independent  of 
carrying  on  the  Christian  enterprise  within  Christen- 
dom, there  is  a  missionary  work — a  work  of  aggression 
upon  the  domains  of  heathenism.  In  this  work  the 
business  department  assumes  an  importance  which  it 
holds  in  no  other  section  of  the  scheme  of  Christian 
propagandism.  The  organizations  are  larger  and  more 
powerful,  heavier  amounts  of  money  are  entrusted  to 
them,  and  a  more  complicated  system  of  machinery  is 
called  into  operation.  Their  operations  are  two-fold, 
comprising  acquisition  and  diffusion,  and  rendering 
necessary  a  double  set  of  machinery — one  to  collect 
funds,  and  another  to  disburse  and  consume  them. 
These  organizations  cannot  be  sustained  without  a  con- 
siderable outlay  of  money,  and  the  amount  of  money 
contributed  for  direct  use  in  forwarding  tho  Christian 
enterprise  must  be  reduced  by  the  amount  necessary  for 


332  Gold-Foil. 

carrying  on  the  machinery  of  these  organizations.  This, 
in  itself,  is  right,  as  every  branch  of  business  should  be 
made  to  pay  for  itself.  I  find,  on  examining  this  mis- 
sionary field,  that  it  is  occupied  by  a  large  number  of 
organizations,  all  professedly  laboring  for  the  same 
object." 

"  A  blessed  object  it  is,  and  may  they  all  be  pros- 
pered in  it ! "  interrupted  my  minister. 

"  Amen !  say  I ;  and  I  will  say  more  than  this. 
From  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  grand  end  of  Chris- 
tian effort  is  kept  more  prominently  in  view  in  mission- 
ary operations  than  in  any  other.  Selfishness  and  par- 
tizanship  are  more  thoroughly  subordinated.  The  work 
is  one  of  measurably  pure  Christian  benevolence.  Not 
so  much  anxiety  is  felt  for  the  propagation  of  sectarian 
views  as  in  the  home  department  of  Christian  labor. 
Accordingly,  in  some  instances,  we  have  a  union  of 
various  organizations  for  the  purpose  of  saving  the  ex- 
pense of  operating  multiplied  sets  of  machinery." 

"  You  like  this,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Dunn. 

"Entirely;  and  simply  because  it  is  the  business 
way  of  doing  things.  You  remember  that  a  short  time 
ago  a  traveller,  in  passing  over  the  New  York  Central 
Railroad,  from  Albany  to  Buffalo,  was  obliged  to  pur- 
chase a  long  string  of  tickets,  which  represented  six  or 
seven — more  or  less — railroad  corporations.  Each  had 
its  board  of  officers,  its  independent  set  of  machinery, 


The  Lord's  Bufineis.  333 

its  separate  engines,  cars  and  men.  The  business  of 
these  lines  was  to  help  the  passenger  on  from  Albany 
to  Buffalo.  Their  interest  was  identical.  So  business 
men  became  aware  that  there  was  a  great  waste  in  the 
management.  They  therefore  agreed  to  a  grand  scheme 
of  consolidation,  by  which  the  whole  track  should  come 
into  the  ownership  of  one  corporation,  and  be  placed 
under  one  board  of  management.  This  was  the  work 
of  business  men.  Now  these  missionary  corporations 
are  the  managers  of  roads  that  lead  from  earth  to 
heaven ;  and,  unlike  the  old  railroad  corporations,  they 
keep  up  (to  speak  it  reverently)  entire  routes  of  transit 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  In  this  thing,  all 
Christians  feel  that  it  is  of  more  importance  that  a  hea- 
then should  come  to  a  practical  knowledge  of  the 
Christian  life,  than  that  that  life  should  be  accom- 
panied by  any  special  sectarian  views.  "What  I  wish  to 
say,  as  a  business  man,  is,  that  not  a  cent  of  money 
should  be  wasted  in  superfluous  organizations  and  ma- 
chinery, and  that  all  these  men  who  arc  carrying  on 
this  superfluous  machinery  should  be  put  directly  into 
the  aggressive  field  of  operations,  where  men  are  so 
much  wanted." 

"  I  agree  with  you  in  the  main,  my  friend,"  said 
Mr.  Dunn,  drawing  a  long  breath. 

"  Yet  I  only  advise  in  the  home  field  the  policy  which 
you  approve  in  the  foreign.' 


334  Gold-Foil 

"  I  know,"  replied  my  minister,  "  but  you  do  not 
comprehend  all  the  difficulties." 

"  Who  made  the  difficulties?  " 

"Let  us  not  go  back  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Dunn, 
smiling. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go  on.  We  have,  scattered  here 
and  there,  over  the  land,  petty  societies,  established 
for  the  accomplishment  of  some  minor,  special  ends. 
There  are  some  of  these  which  must  use  nearly  or  quite 
all  the  funds  they  receive  in  sustaining  themselves. 
Their  agents  occupy  our  pulpits,  they  haunt  our  houses ; 
and  as  we  do  not  know  them,  or  the  organizations 
which  they  represent,  we  regard  it  as  a  hardship  to  be- 
stow our  charities  upon  them.  Speaking  in  a  business 
way,  a  hat  is  a  hat,  and  a  human  soul  is  a  human  soul, 
wherever  found.  If  I  have  money  to  give  for  the  bene- 
fit of  a  human  soul,  I  choose  to  give  it  where  it  will  tell 
directly  xipon  that  soul,  and  not  to  a  man  who  will  keep 
half  of  the  sum  to  pay  himself  for  getting  it  out  of  me. 
In  other  words,  I  would  support  that  man  as  a  mission- 
ary, and  thus  give  the  heathen  the  benefit  of  his  time 
and  my  money,  rather  than  deprive  the  heathen  en- 
tirely of  the  one  and  half  of  the  other." 

"Then  you  would  kill  all  these  societies,  would 
you  ?  » 

"  I  would  do  this :  I  would  place  the  best  business 
men  at  the  head  of  our  leading  charities,  and  then,  if 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  335 

they  should  fail  to  find  these  minor  fields  of  sufficient 
promise  to  warrant  an  outlay  in  their  behalf,  I  should 
advise  that  they  remain  uncultivated." 

"  But  I  do  not  see,"  said  my  minister,  "  how  you 
will  avoid  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  a  full  corps  of 
collectors.  Every  church  must  be  approached  with 
explanations  and  solicitations." 

"  Yes,  but  not  necessarily  by  professional  collectors. 
If  Christians  really  feel  the  interest  which  they  profess 
to  feel  in  missionary  operations,  they  will  need  no  ex- 
planations— no  annual  posting  up  in  missionary  matters. 
A  business  man  needs  no  such  annual  posting  up  in 
financial  affairs.  He  reads  the  foreign  news,  the  price- 
current,  the  daily  condition  of  the  money-market,  and 
every  thing  which  directly  or  indirectly  bears  upon  his 
business.  The  Christian  world  has  its  "  Missionary 
Herald,"  and  other  publications,  in  which  all  the  facts 
are  stated  weekly,  monthly,  or  quarterly.  Any  man 
really  interested  in  this  enterprise,  as  every  Christian 
professes  to  be,  would  of  course  read  these  publications 
with  anxious  avidity.  The  pastor  does,  at  least ;  and 
I  should  greatly  prefer,  Mr.  Dunn,  to  hear  a  missionary 
sermon  from  you,  than  the  tedious  harangue  of  a 
stranger.  At  any  rate,  if  the  church  is  really  interested 
in  the  missionary  work,  it  will  gladly  assume  the  task 
of  collecting  its  own  funds,  and  thus  turn  into  the  di- 
rect channel  of  Christian  effort  the  money  now  ex- 


336  Gold-Foil. 

pended  in  supporting  collectors,  and,  with  it,  the  col- 
lectors themselves." 

Here  Mr.  Dunn  took  out  his  watch. 

"  Mr.  Dunn,  I  accept  the  hint.    I  have  bored  you." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  replied  the  good-natured  man. 
"  I  assure  you  that  the  act  was  involuntary.  Go  on." 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  resuming,  "  that  there  are  but  two 
points  more  which  I  care  about  touching  to-night.  We 
business  men  think  a  great  deal  of  business  honor.  In 
the  business  world,  a  man  who  refuses  to  pay  his  just 
debts  is  accounted  no  better  than  a  swindler.  All  con- 
fidence is  withdrawn  from  him,  and  all  business  accom- 
modations are  refused  to  him  wherever  he  is  known. 
It  was  only  last  Sabbath  that  you  gave  out  a  hymn 
which  had  in  it  this  noble  stanza : — 

'  Were  the  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 

That  were  an  offering  far  too  small ; 
Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 
Demands  my  sonl,  my  life,  my  all.' 

I  noticed  several  eyes  around  me  grow  moist  with  its 
effect.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  whole  church  looked 
upon  it  as  an  eloquent  expression  of  their  indebtedness 
to  their  great  Master.  They  mentally  credited  Heaven 
with  an  infinite  benefit,  and  debited  themselves  with 
their  entire  spiritual,  vital,  and  worldly  estate.  Now 
I,  as  a  business  man,  see  that  the  Christian  acknowl- 
edges the  receipt  of  this  benefit,  and  in  his  covenant,  or 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  337 

contract,  agrees  to  make  the  utmost  payment  in  hia 
power.  Mr.  Dunn,  you  know  I  mean  no  irreverence 
when  I  say  that  the  church  has  not  treated  Jesus  Christ 
with  any  thing  like  the  business  punctilio  which  it  ex- 
ercises towards  and  exacts  of  its  neighbors,  and  that, 
if  Jesus  Christ  were  the  manager  of  a  bank,  every 
obligation  the  members  have  given  would  have  passed 
to  protest  long  ago.  I  do  not  pretend  to  canvass 
moral  obligations,  and  I  will  only  add,  that  when  the 
Christian  enterprise  shall  receive  all  the  men  and  all  the 
money  pledged  to  it  by  contract,  when  Christians  shall 
discharge  their  plain  business  obligations,  voluntarily 
assumed,  and  long  over-due,  there  will  be  no  lack  of 
agents  or  of  means  for  carrying  the  Christian  enterprise 
to  the  grand  consummation  which  awaits  it." 

"  This  is  a  new  view,"  said  my  minister,  with  en- 
thusiasm, "  and  should  be  urged  from  the  pulpit.  It 
must  be  effective." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  it,"  I  replied. 

"  And  is  my  lesson  concluded  ?  " 

"  Not  quite.  I  wish  to  add  that  business  men,  in 
their  steady  look-out  for  tho  main  chance,  are  always 
on  the  alert  for  any  incidental  or  side  schemes  of  profit 
or  advantage  that  may  present  themselves.  In  tho 
Christian  enterprise,  or  among  its  results,  there  is  such 
a  thing  recognized  as  Christian  brotherhood.  It  ought 
to  be  the  best  and  purest  relation  which  can  exist  bo- 
15 


338  Gold-Foil. 

tween  man  and  man,  and,  if  fully  realized,  certain  ma- 
terial benefits  would  be  sure  to  result  from  it." 

"  What,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  that,  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
benefits  that  would  naturally  flow  from  a  genuine 
Christian  brotherhood,  various  special  organizations 
have  been  established,  such  as  the  Free  Masons  and 
the  Odd  Fellows.  Suppose  I  were  in  New  Orleans,  or 
London,  and  should  fall  sick.  Suppose,  also,  that  I 
were  a  member  of  your  church,  and  also  a  Mason. 
Should  I  call  upon  a  member  of  the  church  first,  in 
order  to  secure  care  and  aid  ?  " 

My  minister  blushed,  and  did  not  reply. 

"  You  know  I  should  not.  Now  I  say  that  there 
is  a  very  large  class  of  minds  which  judge  of  the  sound- 
ness of  a  principle  by  the  character  of  the  action  it 
inspires.  To  such  a  class  as  this,  which  organization — 
the  church  or  the  lodge — would  seem  to  possess  within 
it  the  most  powerful  principle  of  practical  fraternity  ?  " 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dunn,  warmly,  "  these 
societies  have  nothing  good  in  them  that  they  did  not 
take  from  Christianity." 

"  That  is  it  exactly.  They  have  stolen  your  capi- 
tal. As  a  business  man,  I  say  that  Christianity  cannot 
afford  to  render  necessary  or  desirable  a  set  of  organ- 
izations which  tend  to  throw  it  into  disrepute,  by  doing 
the  work  which  it  is  the  duty  of  the  church  to  do. 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  339 

"Were  I  to  undertake  a  large  business,  and  attempt  to 
manage  it  in  all  its  details,  and  so  far  fail  in  one  of  them 
that  another  should  spring  up,  and  take  it  out  of  my 
hands,  and  execute  it  better  than  I  had  ever  executed 
it,  I  should  not  only  feel  personally  humiliated,  but  I 
should  feel  that  my  whole  business  had  been  wounded. 
I  say,  then,  that  the  prosecutors  of  the  Christian  enter- 
prise cannot  afford  to  be  surpassed  by  any  other  organ- 
ization in  the  practical  results  which  flow  from  the 
brotherhood  it  establishes.  And  now,  if  you  will  allow 
me  to  finish  at  a  breath,  I  will  add  that  this  same 
business  view  of  brotherhoods  applies  with  equal  force 
to  all  the  organizations  formed  to  do  the  work  which 
the  church  neglects  to  do.  Various  societies  of  re- 
form that  have  sprung  up  in  the  past  have  found  their 
birth  in  the  quick  sensibilities  of  men  who  have  had  no 
connection  with  the  church,  and  who,  in  carrying  them 
forward,  have  met  with  so  much  immobility  hi,  or  abso- 
lute opposition  from,  the  church,  that  they  have  be- 
come impatient  and  disgusted,  so  far,  in  some  instances, 
as  to  become  open  enemies  of  the  church,  and  even  of 
the  Bible  itself.  I  say  that  the  Christian  enterprise 
cannot  afford  this.  Every  good  principle  or  purpose 
which  is  involved  in  these  side-schemes  is  taken  from 
Christianity ;  but  Christianity,  while  furnishing  capital 
for  these  schemes,  loses  not  only  the  capital,  but  tho 
credit  of  using  it,  and  often  has  the  misfortune  to  see 


340  Gold-Foil. 

its  thankless  beneficiaries  turning  against  it.  I  say 
such  management  as  this  is  ruinous." 

"  Management,  management,  management !  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Dunn,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  taking  his  hat 
from  the  table — "  nothing  but  management." 

"  My  good  sir,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  this,  that  your  constant  association  of 
management  with  the  Christian  enterprise  is  repugnant 
to  my  ideas  of  the  nature  of  that  enterprise.  The 
Christian  enterprise  is  heaven-born.  It  has  inherent, 
irresistible  strength,  and  God  is  with  it !  It  must  win 
its  way,  if  its  facts  and  its  principles  be  proclaimed ;  and 
because  that  in  it  are  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of 
God,  it  does  not  need  the  aid  of  such  small  manage- 
ment as  we  apply  to  our  business  affairs — still  less  the 
aid  of  that  power  which  the  cunning  tactician  employs 
in  other  and  less  worthy  fields  of  operation." 

"  I  honor  the  sensitiveness  and  sensibility  in  which 
your  words  originate,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  join  issue  with 
you.  There  is  nothing  more  dangerous  to  any  enter- 
prise than  an  overweening  confidence  in  its  strength. 
Now,  my  good  sir,  against  a  good  cause,  interest,  lust, 
and  malice  manage,  and  when  they  crush  it,  as  they 
have  crushed  many  good  causes,  they  crush  it  by  man- 
agement. They  cannot  oppose  it  on  its  own  merits, 
and  they  therefore  avoid  its  issues.  But  all  the  power 
which  a  good  cause  possesses  within  itself  resides  in  its 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  341 

issues.  If  its  opponents  be  not  brought  to  meet  these, 
it  is  powerless.  Here  is  where  management  becomes 
necessary  to  meet  management,  and  the  nature  of  the 
cause  and  the  nature  of  the  opposition  will  determine 
the  nature  of  the  management." 

"  But  this  has^  nothing  to  do  with  business — we 
were  talking  of  business  management." 

"  I  am  coming  to  that.  The  strictly  business  man- 
agement stands  upon  a  different  basis.  No  matter  how 
good  or  how  strong  a  cause  may  be,  the  scheme  of  its 
propagation  necessarily  has  its  business  department, 
which,  being  independent  of  the  cause  itself,  in  the  fact 
that  it  is  incident  to  all  organized  human  action,  must 
be  conducted  on  business  principles.  I  therefore  say 
that  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous  to  a  cause  than 
that  degree  of  confidence  in  its  strengtli  which  makes 
it  resppnsible  for  more  power  than  resides  in  its  issues, 
and  leads  to  the  abandonment  of  departments  of  labor 
essential  to  its  success — departments  only  legitimately 
to  be  operated  by  human  sagacity  and  human  pru- 
dence." 

As  I  closed  my  last  sentence,  the  clock  struck  nine. 
I  felt  ashamed  for  having  detained  my  good  friend  so 
long,  and  apologized,  not  only  for  this  but  for  tho  al- 
most disrespectful  act  of  calling  him  to  me.  Ho  said 
that  no  apology  was  needed,  that  I  had  given  him  food 
for  thought  for  many  days,  and  that  I  must  not  bo  sur- 


342  Gold-Foil. 

prised  to  see  a  portion  of  my  thoughts  reproduced  in 
the  pulpit,  with  such  modifications  as  reflection  might 
suggest.  I  helped  him  on  with  his  over-coat,  and  he 
left  the  door  in  a  brown  study. 

About  three  weeks  afterwards  he  called  upon  me, 
and  desired  me  to  remain  at  home  on  the  approaching 
Sabbath  morning,  as  he  should  use  so  many  of  my 
thoughts  in  his  discourse  that  it  would  embarrass  him 
to  have  me  present.  I  acceded  to  the  request,  on  the 
condition  that  he  would  give  me  his  sermon  to  peruse 
after  its  delivery.  This  he  agreed  to,  and  the  arrange- 
ment was  fulfilled  in  all  its  parts. 

The  sacred  text  upon  which  he  founded  his  dis- 
course was  this :  "  For  the  children  of  this  world  are 
wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children  of  light." 
It  was  an  eloquent  performance.  All  iny  views  had 
been  modified  somewhat,  by  passing  through  the  me- 
dium of  a  more  spiritual  mind :  but  they  had  not  been 
shorn  of  their  power.  The  closing  paragraphs  im- 
pressed me  as  powerful  and  eloquent,  and  I  trust  that 
their  author  will  take  no  offence  at  my  purloining  them 
and  publishing  them  here. 

"  I  see  the  Christian  enterprise  only  feebly  aggres- 
sive, pushing  on  laboriously  here  and  there,  and  count- 
ing its  gains  slowly,  while  the  great  worldly  enterprises 
among  which  it  floats  dash  proudly  before  the  wind 
with  sails  all  set,  until  they  ride,  staunch  and  trim,  in 


The  Lord's  Bufinefs.  343 

the  harbors  for  which  their  owners  destined  them. 
Think  you  that  in  a  world  of  business  like  this  any 
enterprise  can  succeed  that  is  not  managed  in  a  busi- 
ness manner  ?  Why  should  the  children  of  this  world 
be  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children  of  light  ? 
Why  will  the  latter  vainly  call  upon  God  to  work  mira- 
cles in  their  behalf,  while  refusing  to  apply  to  the  Chris- 
tian enterprise  those  simple,  common-sense  rules  of 
policy  and  action,  without  which  (they  well  know) 
their  own  business  would  fall  into  irretrievable  ruin  ? 
What  sight  more  pitiable  can  there  be,  than  a  band  of 
mistaken  Christians,  praying  Heaven  for  help  in  favor 
of  a  cause  the  laws  of  whose  progress  they  utterly  ig- 
nore or  positively  transgress  ? 

"  Incidentally  our  discussion  has  touched  something 
deeper  than  this.  Heaven  has  chosen  the  weak  things 
of  this  world  to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty; 
and  the  business  test  which  wo  have  applied  to  the 
Christian  enterprise,  and  its  managers  and  manage- 
ment, low  and  subordinate  as  it  is,  has  reached  down 
into  the  great  Christian  heart,  and  tried  its  sincerity. 
It  has  shown  plainly,  if  it  has  shown  any  thing,  that  the 
real  nature  of  the  claims  of  Christianity  is  but  feebly 
realized  by  its  professors.  It  has  shown  that  Christians 
arc  rcpudiators  of  their  acknowledged  debts,  and  that 
behind  all  this  business  delinquency  and  dishonor  there 
must  bo  a  torpor  of  moral  sensibility  and  a  lack  of 


344  Gold-Foil. 

moral  honesty,  sufficient,  but  for  the  upholding  arm  of 
a  pitying  Heaven,  to  crush  the  Christian  enterprise  into 
the  dust. 

"  As  I  look  out  upon  the  field  of  Christian  labor  1 
see  nothing  harder  to  accomplish  than  what  has  been 
accomplished  already.  There  is  not  a  difficulty  there 
which,  in  the  progress  of  the  enterprise,  has  not  been 
many  tunes  surmounted.  The  entire  practicability  of 
the  Christian  enterprise  has  been  demonstrated  by  the 
work  already  done.  The  Christianization  of  mind  is 
not  a  more  difficult  process  now,  than  it  has  been  in 
the  past.  If,  therefore,  the  great  difficulties  in  the 
path  of  the  Christian  enterprise  do  not  exist  in  the  field 
through  which  it  passes,  where  do  they  exist,  where 
can  they  exist,  save  among  those  who  are  carrying 
it  on? 

"  I  feel  oppressed  and  humiliated  by  the  secondary 
position  which  the  great  enterprise  to  which  I  have  de- 
voted myself  is  allowed  to  occupy  among  the  teeming 
enterprises  of  the  world.  I  am  ashamed  that  there  is 
no  more  practical  sagacity  manifested  in  its  manage- 
ment, and  that  even  the  readiness  and  freeness  of  the 
grace  of  God  are  called  in  question  to  account  for  a 
barren  adversity  of  results,  for  which  the  Christian 
world  is  alone  responsible. 

"  Every  interest  of  man  calls  for  the  efficient  prose- 
cution of  this  enterprise  and  its  speediest  completion. 


The  Lord's  Bufmefs.  345 

The  moral  and  intellectual  health  and  the  redemption 
of  a  race  are  involved  in  it.  Whatever  of  blessing 
there  may  be  in  wealth,  whatever  of  honor  and  purity 
there  may  be  in  politics,  whatever  of  sweetness  there 
may  be  in  family  and  social  relations,  whatever  of  worth 
there  may  be  in  manhood  and  womanhood,  whatever 
of  dignity  and  true  joy  there  may  be  in  worldly  pur- 
suits, whatever  of  glory  there  may  be  in  the  wide 
range  of  human  action,  depends  upon  results  which 
this  enterprise  shall  achieve  for  mankind.  It  should  be 
broad,  instinct  with  action,  heaven-reflecting,  and  world- 
embracing  like  the  sea.  Upon  its  billowy  bosom  the 
navies  of  all  lands  should  ride.  The  keel  of  every  hu- 
man enterprise  should  be  sunk  deep  in  its  waters,  and 
every  sail  should  be  filled  fully  and  steadily  by  the  be- 
nign breezes  that  sweep  over  its  surface.  It  should 
only  break  against  great  continents  of  Christian  life  or 
islands  of  human  happiness,  kissing  their  feet  in  the 
tidal  throb  of  its  heaven-born  impulse,  tempering  the 
fervors  of  Prosperity's  summer,  meliorating  the  rigors 
of  Adversity's  winter,  and  binding  the  nations  in  peace- 
ful communion  through  the  medium  of  its  flexible  and 
universal  element.  The  world  cannot  live  without  this 
enterprise.  Wherever  upon  its  surface  a  true  civiliza- 
tion has  lifted  its  head  above  the  dead  level  of  bar- 
barism, there  you  may  trace  the  footsteps  of  the  Chris- 
tian enterprise.  Wherever  tho  divine  man  has  con- 
15* 


346  Gold-Foil. 

quercd  the  brute,  there  has  stood  the  messenger  of 
heavenly  truth. 

"  What  is  true  in  the  past  will  prove  true  in  the 
future.  Thus,  then,  the  world's  destiny  and  the  world's 
hope  are  in  the  Christian  enterprise.  And  hoAV  is  that 
enterprise  managed?  What  progress  is  it  making? 
In  this  view,  how  pitiful  and  contemptible,  nay,  how 
sinful  and  damnable,  become  the  strifes  of  words,  the 
wars  of  sects,  the  dumb  formalities,  the  droning  imbe- 
cilities, the  treasure-sacrificing  ostentations,  and  the 
niggardly  meannesses  of  the  great  mass  of  those  who 
have  in  charge  this  heavenly  enterprise  !  May  the  day 
soon  dawn,  when  the  great  object  of  Christian  labor — 
the  conversion  of  the  world — shall  reconcile  all  differ- 
ences, unite  all  hearts  and  hands,  and  lead  on  victori- 
ously to  the  consummation  of  a  scheme  which  had  its 
birth  in  the  bosom  of  God's  great  benevolence,  and 
shall  find  its  issue  in  universal  joy !  " 


xxvni. 

THE  GREAT  MYSTERY. 

"  Consider  well  and  oft  why  thou  earnest  Into  the  world,  and  how  soon  thoo 
most  go  oat  of  it" 

"  Careless  men  let  their  end  steal  upon  them  unawares  and  unprovided." 
"  Oar  birth  made  us  mortal ;  oar  death  will  make  us  immortal." 
"  He  that  fears  not  the  fatare  may  enjoy  the  present" 

WHY  was  I — why  were  you — called  forth  from 
nothingness  into  a  world  of  danger  and  pain, 
and  sin  and  death  ?  That  is  a  question  that  has  blis- 
tered the  lips  of  a  million  wretches,  and  we  who  aro 
happier,  though  still  the  subjects  of  evil,  may  well  ask 
it,  and  consider  it. 

The  earth  has  been  the  subject  of  two  grand  experi- 
ments, and  in  the  results  of  these  we  are  to  find  tho 
answer,  if  anywhere.  Six  thousand  years  ago  two  per- 
sons— a  man  and  a  woman — were  born  into  tho  world, 
and  awoko  to  tho  consciousness  of  existence.  They 
were  pure  and  good,  and  so  pure  and  so  good  that  they 


348  Gold-Foil. 

were  open  to  free  intercourse  with  God  and  with  spir- 
itual intelligences.  Their  tent  was  the  blue  sky,  the 
floor  of  their  dwelling  was  carpeted  with  Eden's  grass 
and  flowers,  and  fruits,  heaven-provided,  hung  on  every 
hand.  They  knew  no  danger,  they  felt  no  pain,  they 
were  free  from  guilt,  and  had  no  fear  of  death.  They 
were  adapted  to  drink  in  happiness  from  the  things 
around  them,  and  the  things  around  them  were  adapted 
to  supply  their  desires.  A  pair  of  perfect  bodies,  a 
pair  of  pure  spirits,  they  found  themselves  in  what 
seemed  to  be,  and  was  to  them,  a  perfect  world.  They 
were  made  in  the  image  of  God,  and  were  therefore 
free.  This  freedom  was  essential  to  their  perfection, 
their  dignity,  and  that  development  to  which  their 
Maker  looked  as  the  crowning  excellence  and  glory  of 
those  whom  He  would  call  his  children. 

But  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  right  without 
its  opposite — wrong ;  and  no  good  without  its  opposite 
— evil.  They  were  free,  and  could  obey  the  laws  placed 
upon  them,  and  thus  perpetuate  their  happy  estate,  or 
they  could  do  wrong,  and  blast  it.  They  yielded  to 
the  first  temptation  to  do  wrong,  and  found  themselves 
and  the  world  transformed.  This  first  experiment  con- 
templated the  development  of  humanity  into  its  high- 
est form  and  noblest  quality  without  the  ministry  of 
evil.  It  was  a  failure,  and  God,  who  instituted  the 
experiment  that  we  might  answer  the  great  question 


The  Great  Myftery.  349 

we  are  considering,  knew  it  would  be.  It  was  brief, 
terrible,  and  decisive.  The  parents  and  representatives 
of  the  race  were  driven  out  of  the  garden,  and  they 
and  all  their  posterity  have  been  subjected  to  a  new 
experiment — a  better  and  a  safer  one.  It  was  better 
that  Adam  and  Eve  should  fail  then  and  there,  than  a 
thousand  years  afterward.  The  experiment  was  tried 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  and  did  not 
succeed.  That  was  enough  for  the  world.  There  had 
been  experiments  before — how  many  we  know  not — 
but  we  know  that  there  were  great  beings  who  had 
failed  to  keep  their  first  estate,  and  had  done  im- 
measurable mischief  in  the  spiritual  universe.  The 
Bible  tells  of  these. 

The  new  experiment — that  of  which  all  of  us  are 
the  subjects — contemplates  the  introduction  of  the  race 
into  its  highest  estate  through  the  vestibule  of  evil. 
"We  are  to  take  evil  at  this  end,  and  not  at  the  other. 
We  are  to  bccomo  familiar  with  sin  and  its  effects,  to 
overpower  temptation,  to  become  "perfect  through 
suffering."  "We  are  to  win  strength  by  struggle,  and 
to  have  our  love  of  that  which  is  good  developed  side 
by  side  with  our  hatred  of  that  which  is  bad.  Our 
spiritual  natures  are  to  be  knit  into  firmness  by  toil,  to 
be  hardened  into  power  by  conflict,  to  be  softened  into 
humility  by  the  experience  of  their  weakness,  to  bo 
rendered  tractable  by  affliction,  and  thus  fitted  for  a 


350  Gold-Foil. 

safe  eternity.  What  do  you  say  of  this  experiment  ? 
Is  it  not  a  grand  one  ?  Is  it  not  a  benevolent  one  ? 
Tell  me  not  of  the  millions  who  fail  of  this !  I  leave 
them  in  the  hands  of  that  benevolence  that  has  devised 
such  great  things  for  you  and  for  me.  That  this  is  the 
exact  motive  of  the  experiment  now  in  progress  in  this 
world,  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  I  do  not  believe,  consid- 
ering the  length  of  tune  it  has  been  persevered  in,  and 
the  nature  of  the  agencies  that  have  been  introduced, 
that  it  will  prove  to  be  a  failure.  If  I  did,  I  should 
lose  all  faith  in  God.  I  believe  that  the  world,  as  it  is 
— considering  the  nature  and  duration  of  our  existence 
and  the  nature  of  ourselves  and  the  service  and  society 
for  which  we  are  designed — is  the  best  and  safest  world 
we  could  be  placed  in.  There  I  leave  it. 

Well,  is  this  existence,  which  I  have  entered  upon 
by  no  act  of  my  own,  on  the  whole  a  blessing  ?  Do 
you  feel  it  to  be  so  to  you,  or  not  ?  How  would  you 
like  to  be  annihilated — to  be  wiped  out  as  a  conscious 
existence,  and  plunged  into  the  dark  nothingness  from 
whence  you  came  ?  You  shrink  from  the  thought,  and 
so  do  I.  Why  ?  Because,  and  only  because,  we  be- 
lieve, with  all  healthy  souls,  that  existence  is  a  blessing. 
We  love  life,  here  and  now,  in  this  world  of  sickness, 
sorrow,  and  death.  If,  then,  existence  be  a  blessing, 
little  or  large,  to  us,  and  we  were  born  into  a  world  of 
suffering  and  of  sin  for  the  purpose  of  fitting  us  to  live 


The  Great  Myftery.  351 

safely  and  securely  through  all  the  coming  ages  of  our 
existence,  certainly  it  becomes  us  to  take  it  contented- 
ly, to  front  our  destiny  boldly  and  trustfully,  and  see 
what  we  can  make  of  it.  We  are  to  consider  not  only 
why  we  came  into  existence  in  such  a  world  as  this,  but 
how  soon  we  must  go  out  of  it,  and  how  brief,  at 
longest,  the  period  of  this  momentous  experiment 
will  be. 

If  this  world  be  not  a  place  for  education  of  some 
sort,  it  has  little  meaning.  The  idea  that  a  man  should 
be  placed  in  the  circumstances  that  surround  us,  and 
subjected  to  this  great  experiment  without  reference  to 
another  existence — that  he  should  die  as  soon  as  he  has 
learned  to  live — is  simply  absurd.  Admitting,  then, 
that  we  are  the  subjects  of  education,  how  does  it  be- 
come us  to  see  that  the  end  of  its  period  do  not  steal 
upon  us  unawares  and  unprovided.  How  does  it  be- 
come us,  as  rational  men  and  women,  to  make  the  most 
of  our  life,  and  to  see  that  in  our  case,  at  least,  the  ex- 
periment be  successful.  The  man  who  receives  life  as  a 
blessing,  to  bo  cherished  and  loved,  and  enjoyed  and 
preserved,  is  a  coward  if  ho  be  afraid  to  consider  its 
intention  and  its  end,  and  a  guilty  spendthrift  if 
he  let  it  pass  by,  month  after  month  and  year  after 
year,  without  securing  the  education  it  was  meant  to 
convey. 

This  wise  providence  of  time  and  opportunity  be- 


352  Gold-Foil. 

comes  the  more  desirable  when  it  is  remembered  that 
it  is  only  when  we  are  fearless  of  the  future  that  we 
may  enjoy  the  present.  The  lamb  doomed  to  slaughter 
on  the  morrow,  gambols  and  rejoices  in  freedom  to-day, 
because  it  is  fearless  of  the  future.  The  bird  sings,  the 
insect  hums  with  the  joy  that  is  in  it,  the  kitten  frisks 
upon  the  carpet,  not  because  they  are  not  subjects  of  pain 
and  death,  but  because,  knowing  nothing  of  them,  they 
have  no  fear  of  them.  A  fearlessness  of  the  future 
identical  with  this  cannot  be  ours,  and  the  fact  is  proof 
of  our  higher  destiny ;  but  a  fearlessness  of  the  future, 
which  will  render  our  life  far  happier  than  theirs,  may 
be  acquired,  by  preparation  to  meet  the  future.  Life 
is  only  an  inestimable  blessing  to  him  who,  prepared  to 
meet  the  future,  and  who,  comprehending  his  position 
and  the  meaning  of  it,  is  not  afraid  of  the  future. 

The  shadowy  future — ah !  how  many  shudder  when 
they  think  of  it !  How  many  shrink  from  even  the 
thought  of  it !  How  it  poisons  every  present  delight, 
and  embitters  every  pleasure,  and  haunts  every  hour  of 
hollow  mirth!  I  declare  this  to  be  utterly  unneces- 
sary— even  inexcusable.  We  are  content  to  live  here 
in  this  world  of  sorrow  and  pain,  and  shrink  from  a 
world  in  which  it  shall  be  done  away  with,  if  we  are 
only  manly  enough  to  get  ready  for  it !  Accepting  our 
life  as  an  experiment — a  period  of  education — entering 
into  the  plan  by  which  we  are  to  be  fitted  for  everlast- 


The  Great  Myflery.  353 

ing  happiness  and  safety,  and  subjecting  ourselves  to 
the  necessary  discipline — we  lift  the  great  shadow  from 
xis ;  the  phantom  of  the  future  retires,  and,  calm  in  our 
trust,  we  live  in  the  present  a  life  of  enjoyment.  No 
man  can  enjoy  life  hi  its  full,  blessed  measure,  until  this 
tormenting  fear  be  cast  out ;  and  it  can  never  be  cast 
out  by  a  rational  man  until  the  future  looks  safe  to  him. 
The  moment  the  future  is  taken  care  of,  present  trials 
seem  small,  and  present  joys  are  lifted  to  our  lips,  their 
divine  aroma  unalloyed. 

The  tendency  of  religious  instruction  and  of  phil- 
osophical speculation  has  been  to  mystify  us  ah1  upon 
this  problem  of  evil  in  the  world.  Our  preachers  have 
talked  solemnly  upon  the  subject  of  "  reconciling  "  the 
existence  of  evil  with  the  infinite  love  and  goodness  of 
God,  as  if  the  belief  in  this  goodness  and  the  recogni- 
tion of  this  evil  in  the  ordained  system  of  things,  were 
to  be  regarded  separately,  with  an  unbridged  gulf  of 
darkness  between  them.  Threading  that  darkness, 
fathoms  below  sight,  there  is  supposed  to  be  a  chain  of 
golden  links,  holding  one  to  the  other,  to  be  appre- 
hended only  by  an  irrational  faith.  Such  teaching  and 
such  speculation  are  full  of  miserable  infidelity.  I,  for 
one,  believe  in  the  infinite  love  and  goodness  of  God. 
I  plant  myself  on  them,  and  I  believe  that  I  could  not 
be  shaken  from  my  foothold  without  the  wish  that  I 
might  plunge  into  annihilation.  On  this  firm  rock  I 


354  Gold-Foil. 

take  my  stand,  and,  without  seeking  to  reconcile  the 
evil  which  enters  into  my  experience  and  comes  within 
my  observation  with  God's  love  and  goodness,  I  seek 
rationally  to  account  for  the  evil  as  an  appointed  means 
of  the  infinite  love  and  goodness.  I  know  God  is  good, 
or  lie  is  no  God ;  and  I  believe,  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence, that  I  am  to  be  raised  into  assimilation  with 
the  specific  quality  of  His  goodness  by  rational  knowl- 
edge of,  and  experimental  acquaintance  with,  evil.  I 
call  that  infidelity,  and  not  faith,  which  makes  of  the 
existence  of  evil  a  blind  mystery,  to  be  mournfully  ac- 
cepted, and  sacredly  kept  from  the  hand  and  eye  of 
reason.  It  makes  no  difference  wiiat  events  and  what 
destinies  hinge  upon  the  existence  of  evil  here  ;  it  mat- 
ters nothing  what  sufferings,  what  woes,  what  sorrows 
assail  us ;  the  moment  we  swing  loose,  by  the  smallest 
remove,  from  perfect  trust  in  the  infinite  love  and  good- 
ness, and  a  belief  in  the  benign  ministry  of  evil  as  a 
department  of  their  means,  we  lose  our  hold  upon  the 
meaning  of  our  life. 

Believing  in  God's  goodness  and  His  infinite  and 
everlasting  love,  I  believe  in  evil,  as  a  part  of  the  di- 
vinely appointed  means  by  which  my  soul  is  to  be 
educated  and  disciplined  for  its  highest  possible  des- 
tiny— as  a  means  rendered  necessary  by  my  nature  and 
by  my  destiny.  I  believe  that  if  now,  in  my  soul's  in- 
fancy, I  make  my  acquaintance  with  evil,  and  grow  up 


The  Great  Myftery.  355 

through  it  into  my  soul's  manhood — learning  its  rela- 
tions to  divine  law  and  to  my  own  personal,  godlike 
freedom — that  I  shall  be  safe  through  the  infinite  ages 
that  stretch  before  me.  I  shall  not  be  like  the  anerels 

O 

who  lost  their  first  estate,  and  plunged,  full-fledged, 
from  heights  of  heavenly  power  into  an  infamous  per- 
dition. God  might  as  well  have  given  me  my  infancy 
in  heaven  as  here,  if  evil  had  no  ministry  of  good  for 
me.  I  might  as  well  have  been  ushered  at  once  into 
the  spiritual  life,  as  to  have  been  the  tenant  of  a 
death-doomed  body,  if  there  had  been  nothing  to 
be  gained  by  probationary  subjection  to  the  power  of 
eviL 

So  I  take  my  life  as  I  find  it,  as  a  life  full  of  grand 
advantages  that  are  linked  indissolubly  to  my  noblest 
happiness  and  my  everlasting  safety.  I  believe  that  in- 
finite love  ordained  it,  and  that,  if  I  bow  willingly, 
tractably,  and  gladly  to  its  discipline,  my  Father  will 
take  care  of  it.  I  say  nothing  here  of  the  Christian 
scheme,  because  I  choose  to  discuss  this  single  question 
by  itself. 

Now,  what  I  wish  to  say,  is  this :  that  a  man  who 
decides  that  God  is  infinitely  good,  that  he  was  born 
into  a  world  of  evil  because  it  was  on  the  whole  best 
for  him  to  be  born  into  such  a  world,  that  evil  has  a 
ministry  for  him  essential  in  the  nature  of  things  to  his 
highest  destiny  and  his  completed  safety,  and,  with 


356  Gold-Foil. 

faith  and  confidence,  accepts  his  lot  and  makes  the  most 
of  it,  has  nothing  to  fear  in  the  future,  and  nothing  to 
hinder  his  enjoyment  of  the  present.  From  such  a 
man  the  incubus  of  a  dark  future  is  lifted.  The  future 
may  be  undefined  and,  perhaps,  in  some  sense,  awful, 
but  it  will  not  be  terrible ;  for  infinite  love  will  take 
care  of  it.  The  terror  inspired  by  things  to  come 
thus  taken  out  of  the  way,  the  ban  on  present  happi- 
ness is  removed,  and  soul  and  sense  may  drink  in  un- 
reproved,  whatever  good  that  crowds  to  them  for  ac- 
ceptance. 

If  we,  finite  creatures,  encumbered  with  flesh,  and 
harassed  by  its  appetites  and  gross  proclivities,  con- 
quer the  temptations  that  assail  us,  and  find  ourselves 
growing  stronger  and  better  as  we  grow  older ;  if,  in 
this  world  of  evil,  and  in  a  measure  through  its  minis- 
try, we  become  elevated  and  ennobled,  how  safe  and 
glorious  must  that  future  be  which  shall  find  us  free 
from  the  appetites  that  chafe  us,  and  released  from  all 
pain  and  sorrow !  Now,  is  it  not  worth  something  to 
make  that  future  so  secure  that  we  can  approach  it 
with  fearlessness  ?  Ah  yes !  The  life  which  is,  no  less 
than  the  life  which  is  to  come,  is  ours,  if  we  will  take  it. 
With  this  lion  in  our  way  removed,  how  sweetly  will 
taste  the  pleasures  of  life  !  How  precious  will  become 
the  loves  that  our  hearts  drink  so  greedily,  and  often  so 
fearfully,  when  we  know  that  we  may  drink  them  for- 


The  Great  Myftery.  357 

ever !  How  charming  will  become  the  songs  of  birds, 
and  how  fragrant  the  perfume  of  flowers,  to  him  who 
believes  that  he  will  only  lose  them  to  listen  to  angelic 
music,  and  breathe  the  breath  of  flowers  that  never 
decay  1 

Much  of  the  mystery  that  hangs  over  the  world,  as 
a  world  of  evil,  grows  out  of  a  misconception  of  the 
highest  life.  If  the  highest  good  of  the  short  years 
that  are  allotted  to  us  on  the  earth  be  happiness,  then 
is  the  existence  of  evil  indeed  a  mystery ;  but  it  is  not» 
and  cannot  be.  Happiness  is  a  legitimate  object  of 
life,  and  I  am  even  now  endeavoring  to  show  how  more 
of  it  may  be  secured ;  but  it  is  an  object  to  bo  held 
subordinate  to  the  education  necessary  for  service  in 
another  realm,  and  the  permanent  enjoyment  of  another 
estate.  I  believe  that  the  truest  happiness  of  the  world 
is  to  be  found  in  heartily  accepting  and  entering  into 
the  scheme  by  which  evil  is  made  a  powerful  agency 
in  the  development  and  eternal  security  of  the  soul. 
Accepting  this  ministry,  and  trusting  in  the  good- 
ness— profound  and  eternal — in  which  it  was  con- 
ceived,  what  a  flood  of  light  and  love  is  let  in  upon  the 
soul!  No!  thero  is  something  better  for  us  in  this 
world  than  happiness,  whatever  thoro  may  be  beyond. 
We  will  take  happiness  as  the  incident  of  this,  gladly 
and  gratefully.  We  will  add  a  thousand-fold  to  tho 
happiness  of  the  present  in  tho  fearlessness  of  the  fu- 


358  Gold-Foil. 

ture  which  it  brings,  but  we  will  not  place  happiness 
first,  and  thus  cloud  our  heads  with  doubt  and  fill 
our  hearts  with  discontent.  In  the  blackest  soils  grow 
the  richest  flowers,  and  the  loftiest  and  strongest  trees 
spring  heavenward  among  the  rocks. 


THE  END. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  CHA3.  BCEIDNER. 


NO  W  READ  Y—  THE 

TENTH  EDITION  OF  BITTER-SWEET. 

BY  DR.  J.  G.  HOLLAND,  Author  o/  "  Timothy  Titcomb't  Letter*? 
1  Tol.  12  mo.,  75  cents;  in  full  gilt,  $1  25. 

Epos  Sargent,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  In  a  letter  to  the  publisher,  says  : 

"  I  know  of  no  long  poem  of  American  origin  that  I  can  place  before  it  In  laying 
this,  I  do  not  forget  the  productions  of  Longfellow,  so  deservedly  celebrated.  The  flow 
and  mastery  of  poetic  language  in  this  work  seems  to  me  very  remarkable.  All  the 
lyrical  parts  are  excellent  The  descriptive  parts  are  admirable,  original,  and  thoroughly 
American." 

The  London  Literary  Gazette,  of  December  4,  says: — "Bitter-Sweet  Is  a  dramatic 
poem  of  unquestionable  povxr,  representing  the  inner  life  of  a  Puritan  family  in  New 
England.  It  contains  many  eloquent  passages." 

The  London  Athenmum  says:— "It  Is  a  suggestive  and  original  poem.  Vigor  and 
force  and  imaginative  beauty  are  to  be  found  in  it" 

"If  we  mistake  not  our  readers  will  recognize  with  ug  Via  geniut  of  a  true  poet, 
with  a  rare  wealth  of  poetic  sympathies,  profound  observation  of  the  workings  of  human 
passion,  and  the  creative  power  to  clothe  bis  conception  in  expressive  forms.1* — .Y«*o 
York  Tribune. 

u  It  la  the  real  power  of  a  work  -which  gives  it  a  rank  among  the  production*  of 
geniut,  and  to  this  rank  Bitter-Stceet  assuredly  belong*.  Since  the  days  of  Gray 
there  has  been  written  no  better  blank  Terse,  and  the  songs  show  •  finish  and  beauty 
which  almost  surpass  Mrs.  Browning."— New  Haven  Journal. 

"  A  dramatic  poem,  which  is  characteristically  American,  showing  a  great  command 
of  versification  and  purity  of  style.  This  poem  shows  that  Dr.  Holland  it  a  man  of 
genius.""1 — Boston  Pott. 

"  It  is  a  gem  of  a  book,  unique  in  style  and  conception,  yet  touchingly  simple  and 
grand.  Tho  poem  contains  passages  of  surpassing  beauty."—  Great  Barrington 
Courier. 

" '  Bitter-Sweet '  has  many  exquisite  passages,  and,  as  a  whole,  will  bare  V gioos  of 
admirers."— Button  TrarelUr. 

"  It  is  a  book  of  great  oriffinality-ilm  frnlt  of  a  strong,  original,  and  extraordinary 
miad.**—  Ration  Transcript. 

"  Wo  feel  assured  that  Bitter-Sweet  will  establish  the  author's  fame  at  a  pott  of 
geniut.'"— Detroit  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  ThU  panorama,  in  graceful  verse,  U  a  beautiful  and  origin*!  conception,  and  wtab- 
lisljes  Dr.  Holland  among  our  first  American  poeU."—Bt(/Uo  AmmtrtM  Adeer- 
liter. 

u  lie  who  can  read  the  conclusion  of  tbU  poem  without  loan  ought  not  to  read  at 
all."—  The  Philadelphia  Prttt* 

«  Tbo  author,  one  of  the  moat  rigorous  pro*o  writer*  of  the  day,  In  the  pre**nt 
work  contends  not  untuccevfully  for  the  port*  wreath.  It  will  bo  a*  popular  a*  U  U 
rental"—  Central  Chriftlan  Herald, 

«  We  promb*  our  reader,  who  are  loren  of  poetry  a  rich  tr«U  In  Hit*  Tolom*. 
problem  of  evil  and  It*  «aea  t*  grandly  tre*U>d ;  and,  while  U*  anlhori>«Wt<« 9**l»* 
<fa  tnu  poet,  be  breathe*  tb«  spirit  of  a  true  CnrtaUan."— CMeHa*  Imyttirtr. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  ClIAS.  SCGIBNER. 


A    CHOICE    AND    POPULAR    BOOK1 


THE  TWENTIETH  THO  USAND—NO  W  READ  T. 
TIMOTHY    TITCOMB'S    LETTERS 

TO  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  SINGLE  AND  MARRIED. 
1  voL  12mo.,  $1  00;  or  in  full  gilt,  $1  50. 

THEIK  GOOD  SENSE,  SOUND  ADVICE,  AND  GENIAL  HUMOR  COMMEND 
THEM  TO  ALL. 

"  This  series  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  kind  we  have  ever  met  with.  The  writer  is 
evidently  a  shrewd  observer,  and  he  gives  an  infinite  deal  of  wholesome  advice  in  a 
plain,  open,  straightforward  manner.  "While  he  inculcates  true  religious  principles,  he 
indulges  in  no  cant,  and  his  style  is  such  as  will  at  once  attract  the  attention  of  those 
for  whom  the  work  is  written." — New  York  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"Pleasantly  told,  and  couched  in  such  language  that  it  cannot  fail  to  win  its  way  to 
the  hearts  of  the  young.  Tho  subjects  treated  bear  upon  all  the  relations  of  life ;  and 
the  moral  tone  which  characterizes  every  page,  the  earnestness  which  is  breathed  into 
every  line,  and  the  genuine  love  of  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful,  which  casts  its 
halo  over  the  whole  work,  cannot  fail  to  leave  their  impress  on  the  mind  of  the  reader.'' 
— Buffalo  Courier. 

"  We  have  rarely  read  a  volume  which  contained  more  plain,  good,  common  sense  or 
practical  advice.  It  is  written  in  a  taking  style,  and  will  be  a  treasure  in  many  a  house- 
hold."— Boston  Atlas. 

"  Their  good  sense,  s*nnd  advice  and  genial  humor,  commend  them  to  general  perusal." 
-Albany  Eaening  Journal. 

The  London  Literary  Gazette  says:—"  We  have  never  read  a  work  which  better  in- 
culcates the  several  duties  and  responsibilities  of  young  men  and  women,  married  or 
single." 

"The  strong  common  sense  which  pervades  them,  the  frank  and  manly  utterance  of 
wholesome  truths  in  pointed  and  beautiful  language,  and  the  genial  sympathy  which  the 
author  has  for  those  whom  he  addresses,  cannot  fail  to  commend  the  work  to  general 
favor. 

"FOP.   PURE   ENGLISH  DICTION  AND  BEAUTIFUL  IMAGERY  IT  WILL 
TAKE  ITS  PLACE  AS  A  CLASSIC  WITH  IRVING'S  SKETCH  BOOK." 

"  These  letters  are  written  with  such  frankness,  honesty  and  good  sense,  aud  exhibit 
such  a  wholesome  horror  of  humbug  and  cant,  that  we  know  the  author  must  be  a  'good 
fellow,'  and,  while  pleased  to  read  his  book,  learn  to  like  him." — Hartford  Frets. 

"  They  contain  many  truthful  and  valuable  suggestions,  presented  in  the  cultivated 
and  attractive  style  of  a  practised  writer.  There  is  an  earnestness  and  hearty  tone  to 
the  whole  which  commends  the  book  to  the  good  opinion  of  all." — Hartford  Times. 

"  Written  in  a  style  to  both  please  and  instruct  They  entitle  the  author  to  the  lasting 
gratitude  of  the  young  as  well  as  the  old." — NortlMmpton  Gatettt. 


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